The Graduate: A David Gordon Story
by christylee
Summary: COMPLETED! The McGuire's marriage is falling apart and Jo seeks solace with a most unlikely new friend. Will Lizzie allow the relationship to continue? See AN for important info!
1. Chapter 1: David

_READ THIS FIRST: I'll tell you upfront, this is not a LG, it is not even a MG. It's a JG. Some of you are right now flipping out, thinking, "This is way too weird!" Please don't close your mind! Please allow me the chance to present this story in a way that makes sense and is tastefully told, and hopefully you will be pleasantly surprised._

_I am relatively new to fanfiction and I wanted to do something a little different. I wasn't able to look back at all 2600-plus Lizzie McGuire fanfictions on this site, but scanning the Summaries of the last 200 or so I did not see a JG ship anywhere. So hopefully this will be something original and refreshing._

_If anybody is aware of any other JG's, please let me know, mostly because I am curious._

_Also, when you comment, please let me know if you really think this is as weird as I seem to think you're going to feel it is. Not that I'm going to change the story I want to tell based on what other people may or may not think, but again, I'm simply curious!_

_ANOTHER THING: I'm rating this M, because there are going to be a few moments that might have more of an R rating than a PG13 rating, if this were a movie. I don't want to surprise anyone or offend anyone, so I'm letting you know upfront._

_DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything about the Lizzie McGuire show, but I do want to thank the original authors and producers for creating such wonderful characters._

_All that out of the way , let's proceed:_

_-_

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is whether or not Lizzie McGuire and I ever actually got together. For some reason, everyone always wants to know that. The answer is yes and no.

We dated for exactly four months in tenth grade, starting on Valentine's Day, February 14, and breaking up on Flag Day, June 14, just after school let out for the summer. I don't know why I remember that it was Flag Day, that just sticks in my head. I'm full of all kinds of useless information. That's just me.

So that's the "yes" part of my answer. But the "no" part is because though Lizzie and I hugged and kissed and even felt each other up quite a bit, we never got much past that. So we never really "got together" in the fullest sense of everything that term could imply. If you really want to know the truth, I never actually "got together" with anybody like that while I was in high school.

Though I almost did, the summer after I graduated. And the weirdest part is that it happened with the most unlikely person. Well, maybe not _the_ most unlikely. If it had been Lizzie's dad or her little brother, that would have been really weird and beyond imagination. But it wasn't with them, and it wasn't with Lizzie.

It was with her mom.

And I'm telling you now it's not unimaginable, because Jo McGuire, it turns out, is one really great lady, a fantastic, caring person. At a time when I needed a friend as much as she did, she was there, helping me as much as I was helping her. There was nothing sordid about it, so don't even think it. It was beautiful, and I'll never regret anything that happened. Except maybe what happened in the very end. Sometimes I still wonder what it might have been like, if only…if somehow…

And I also often find myself wondering if she ever wonders the same thing.

-

But that's the end of the story. I should go back and start at the beginning.

It was the hottest night yet of the longest summer in my life, and July wasn't even over. I had just finished my work shift and was standing out by the bus stop, when a silver SUV slowed and then stopped in the bus lane. The tinted window rolled down and I heard, "Gordo? Gordo? Is that you?"

Now Gordo was a name I hadn't used for a while. It took four years of high school, but I had trained almost everyone to call me Dave or David. Only very special people got to call me Davey. And only my oldest childhood friends Lizzie and Miranda sometimes slipped back into "Gordo." They did…and so did their parents.

I approached the vehicle and peeked inside.

Jo McGuire, Lizzie's mom, was at the wheel, an expression of amazement on her face. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed. "It is you! I can't believe it! Look how tall you are! Look how grown up and handsome! I almost didn't recognize you!"

"Thanks, Mrs. McGuire," I said politely, not quite sure if I should take her words as a compliment. Had I really been that much of a germ as a kid?

"What are you doing out here, Gordo?"

"Waiting for the bus."

"Are you on your way home? Come on, jump in. I'll give you a lift."

It took two buses and nearly forty minutes to get home by public transportation, so this was an offer I could not refuse. I jumped in the passenger seat, saying, "Thanks!"

Jo pulled the car back out into traffic and we were on our way. She turned and looked at me again, smiling and repeating, "Oh my God, Gordo! Look at you!"

Frankly, it was getting a little embarrassing. I didn't generally like to have so much attention drawn to myself, especially my physical appearance. We really are so much more than our physical appearance, don't you think? But I had worked really hard on growing about six inches since the last time I had seen her, almost two years ago, when Lizzie and I broke up, so it was really nice that she noticed and said, "You're so tall now!"

"Not _so_ tall," I said sheepishly. "But taller than I was."

"And look at the hair!" she exclaimed. "I love the hair!"

I had decided to grow my hair out a little, and I could actually get it back in a ponytail if I wanted to, but most of the time I just let it hang, because frankly I liked the way my hair looked. So I agreed now, "Yeah. I like my hair too."

She looked at me, almost laughing. When we pulled up at a red light, she grinned mischeviously and asked, "Do you mind...?"

Did I mind what? And then she reached out and ran her hand right through my curls, surprising me at first. Was she coming on to me? That seemed impossible. But then I realized that most likely she still thought of me as that little kindergarten kid that was always over on Saturday afternoons, making hideaway forts with sheets and chairs for Lizzie and me to play in. We would play kickball or Tag out in the front yard, and on more than one occasion Jo McGuire had had to wipe my tears and put Neosporin on my scraped knee or elbow. To her, surely, I would always be that little boy.

"I must have missed seeing you at the graduation ceremony," Jo said when she was done feeling up my hair. "Right in the middle, Gammy McGuire had to use the little girls' room, but she didn't know where it was, so I had to climb down all those bleachers with her. We left somewhere around Ethan Craft and got back in time to see Danny Kessler. So I must have missed seeing you get your diploma. Oh, Gordo! I would love to have seen that. I'll bet your parents were so proud."

I cringed to hear her call me Gordo again, but I didn't know if it would be more trouble than it was worth asking her to call me David instead. There would be questions and more exclamations about how grownup I was, so I simply said, "Yeah, my parents are pretty proud."

"And where are you going to college?" Jo wondered. "I asked Lizzie, but she didn't know."

Lizzie did know. She probably just didn't like to talk about me. "I'm going to UC Berkeley," I explained. "My cousin Adam is there. I'm actually going to be renting a house with him and some of his friends."

"Oh, I remember Adam. But isn't he so much older than you?"

"Four years," I said. "He should be graduated by now, but he took a year off from school, so he's going to be a senior this year. Do you remember the summer he and I traveled around the country with our grandma?""

"Did you?" Jo asked. "No! I didn't know!"

Lizzie really wasn't communicating much with her mom, was she? At least not about me.

"Yeah, we had a great time with Grandma," I remembered, smiling. "She called us her two 'male escorts'. When I had to go back to school, Adam decided to travel around with her a little longer, 'gathering life experiences' for the novel he was trying to write."

"And did he ever write it?"

"Most of it," I said. "He keeps working on it, but school and real life keep getting in the way. I think part of the reason why he wants me as a roommate is because I'll help keep him on track, I'll help keep him disciplined."

"I think you will," Jo said. Even in the dark car, I could see her smiling at me. Then she said, "So! Going away to school. How exciting! Lizzie's starting at the community college, you know."

"I know."

"A lot of her friends are staying. She doesn't want to leave them. With Lizzie it's always been all about friends."

"I know," I repeated.

"It was so nice when you and Lizzie and Miranda were such good friends," Jo said, her voice tinged with a wistful melancholy. "I miss that," she said. "I miss not having you guys around. Those were happier days, don't you think?"

Now that was a tough one to answer! In some ways, yes. Hanging out with Lizzie and Miranda has always been a blast…until high school, when we all started to go our separate ways. But when I looked back on all the teenage angst, the peer pressure, the frustration of wanting to be grown up and independent, but nowhere ready for so much responsibility---no thanks! I was a lot happier now.

"Does Lizzie still see Miranda much?" I asked.

"Not a lot," Jo said. "She has so many new friends." I got the impression she did not exactly approve of some of these new friends. I really didn't want to talk about Lizzie, and was looking for a way to change the topic when Jo suddenly asked, "So what were you doing out there anyway, waiting for the bus?"

We were stopped at another traffic light, so I pulled up the left corner of my shirt, showing her the design. "Circuit City," I said. "I've been there about a year. I wasn't planning to stay through the summer, but they promoted me to Computer Sales and gave me fulltime hours with a raise in pay."

"Sounds like they don't want to lose you," Jo observed.

"I know my stuff," I said, hoping I didn't sound too cocky. "The money was too good to pass up. I'm saving for a car. My folks say I don't need a car if I'm going to Berkeley, but they also said if I show the initiative and save for one, they'll match me dollar for dollar. I'm earning as much money as I can in the next six weeks, then I'm out of here."

"Well, good for you, Gordo!" Jo said. "You have a dream and you're going after it. I always knew you would go far. You're so determined. And so smart. And such a nice kid." She looked at me again, and again there was that wistfulness about her. "And so handsome!" she added with a laugh. "You really have grown up, haven't you?"

Okay! I'd had all I could take! I didn't want to talk about myself anymore. New topic…new topic…then it hit me, as I looked across the front seat at Jo McGuire….

"You also look….well, not grown up exactly, but…different…"

She grinned wildly. "You noticed?"

"What am I noticing?"

"Something is missing, and something else has been added," she said, as if it were a riddle.

I kept looking at her. Yes, she was different. Her hair was different, for one thing. It was still that beautiful blonde color, but it was long, and it was down, not all piled up on top of her head like a rat's nest, like she used to. Even as a kid, I used to wonder why she didn't show off her beautiful hair.

But that wasn't missing, and that wasn't added. It must be something else---

"Your glasses!" I guessed.

"Gone!" she sang happily.

"Contacts?"

"No, better! I had the surgery. _Feel the fear and do it anyway_. It was so liberating to get past that, that it really inspired me for the next procedure I'd been thinking about for years and years."

"Procedure?" I questioned.

"Surgery."

"More surgery?"

"Cosmetic surgery."

I must have been looking at her blankly, because suddenly she laughed and said, "Oh, Gordo. I guess you're too much of a gentleman say anything, but take a look at these."

At this point she dropped her right arm from the steering wheel and pushed out her chest. Now it was obvious.

"I had them done," she explained happily.

"I see," was all I could say. It was a good thing it was relatively dark in the car, or she would have seen how deeply I was blushing. This was mad uncomfortable.

But Jo McGuire just laughed. "From barely B to fully C. I'm sorry! I probably shouldn't be discussing this with you, but I'm so excited about my new body I can't help but show everybody. You have no idea how good this makes me feel about myself!"

"Well, that's good that you feel good about yourself," I said. "But you didn't need to do any of these things, Mrs. McGuire. You were just fine the way you were."

"Oh, Gordo, you're so sweet…"

Of course, now that the issue had been raised, it was impossible _not_ to look. That was the first really weird moment in a series of fairly weird moments over the rest of that summer. She was wearing this little stretchy tank top, all striped in pink and yellow and some other colors I couldn't see really well at the moment. What I could see was that she was clearly more stacked then she'd ever been before.

"But it's…it's…it's nice," I stuttered. "I mean, that you feel better about yourself than you did before. Always good to have a boost to the old self confidence."

"See? _You_ get it," she said, in a way that obviously indicated there was somebody else who did not "get it."

By this time we were turning down the block into the neighborhood. The McGuires' house would come up first on the left, mine was a little further down on the right. "You can drop me at your house," I said. "I can walk the rest of the way. It's only five minutes from here."

"Even less," she said, and I'd almost swear she winked at me as she said, "now that your legs are longer."

We got out of the car in the driveway, and Jo said, "Would you be a sweetheart, Gordo, and bring in that bag by your feet?"

I picked up the bag. "Baskin Robbins! So that explains why my feet felt so cold. I thought it was just really good air conditioning in your car."

"No, it's Sam's favorite flavor, pistachio mint. You're coming in to have some, aren't you?"

"Oh, I…"

"Oh, come on, Gordo."

"But ice cream before bedtime always gives me the strangest dreams."

"Then don't go to bed right away. Stay a while and talk. I know Lizzie would love to see you. If she's home. And Sam. If he's home," she added with a sigh she could not quite hide.

There was something about the sad small way she said that and the way she sighed that made me feel it would be extremely rude and cruel not to accept the invitation. After all, she had been nice enough to give me a ride home. In exchange she seemed to want to revisit the past, at least in some small way. I was part of that past, and I got the impression she almost believed that if I walked into that house, the way I had walked into it a thousand times before over the years, somehow wrongs would be righted.

I knew I didn't have that kind of magical power. And I knew Lizzie would certainly not be happy to see me. If she was there. Hopefully she wasn't.

"What about Matt?" I asked. I would like to see the little guy, see how he was doing.

Jo laughed. "He's just cut his hair into the most ridiculous style," she said. "You have to see it."

"Okay," I said. "I'd like to see it."

So I followed Jo McGuire up the front pathway and walked into that house for the one thousandth and first time.


	2. Chapter 2: Jo

When I picked up David at the bus stop that first night, I honestly wasn't thinking of anything more than helping out an old friend of the family. And when I invited him inside the house, I really only wanted for everybody to say hello after being out of touch for so long.

I knew Sam wasn't going to be there, but I hoped it would do Lizzie some good to see her old pal "Gordo." She was a little bit off- track these days, and Gordo had always been able to help her see straight.

Did he still have that magic? A mother can always hope, can't she?

"Hey, kids!" I called, coming in the front door. "Look who I found standing on the side of the road like a lost little puppy dog!"

Matt came out of the living room, a big smile on his face when he recognized David. "Dude!" he said. "Whazzup?"

David laughed. "Look at you, Matt. What the heck is going on with that hair?"

Matt touched the top of his Mohawk, which by the way, was currently deep blue. "It's the new me," he announced. "My dad says I look like a punk. Ya think?"

"You are a punk," David said, still laughing. "You always were. Now you look the part. For real."

"Hey, man! Circuit City! Can you hook me up with a sweet deal on a new computer?"

"It's what I do," David said.

"For people who can afford to pay for it," I added. "Which you cannot, Matt."

"Aw, Mom---!"

"No, we're not having this discussion again right now," I said, going into the kitchen. "You want some pistachio mint?"

"Can't, Mom. Gotta run. Lanny and Chubbs are waiting for me."

"Matt! It's ten thirty at night!"

"And it's summer, and there's no school tomorrow, and I'm going to be right around the corner," Matt said. "You have Lanny's home phone number if you need me." To David he said, " See you later, dude! It's been real."

Matt ran out of the house. Now that he was in high school, he was always running off somewhere. So was Lizzie.

"I wonder where Lizzie is…" I said, bringing out some bowls for the ice cream.

I glanced up and noticed David still standing in the foyer, looking awfully uncomfortable. He turned away as soon as I caught his eye, so I wouldn't see him blushing.

But I had seen him blushing, and I knew why. I had caught him looking at my boobs again. How could he not look? They were spectacular. I knew that. I didn't have them done so people _wouldn't_ look at them. Actually, I'd had them done so Sam would look at them, and want to touch them and play with them, but he wasn't taking the bait much these days, so I guess the consolation prize of my daughter's old friend sneaking a guilty glance was better than nothing.

I smiled. Now that David was older, he was reminding me so much of Sam when we had first started dating in high school. Smart, but a little bit shy. And oh so cute. It was okay for me to notice that, wasn't it? I mean, after all, I may be older than I'd ever been before, but I was still female, right? And he had grown up very nicely indeed.

"Come sit down, Gordo," I said.

"You know," he said uneasily. "I'm thinking maybe I should just---"

"What the---?" Here was Lizzie, galloping down the stairs, stopping short at the bottom, as she repeated "What the---Gordo? What are you doing here?"

From the kitchen I watched the awkward exchange.

"Hi, Lizzie. Your mom gave me a ride. I was just going."

"Going where?"

"Home."

"Well then…" Lizzie said, stepping back to open the door for him.

"Lizzie!" I scolded. Honestly. Had I raised my kids to be so rude?

"It's okay, Mrs. McGuire," David said. "I've had a long day. I appreciate the lift. Thanks a lot. Well, see you again sometime. Bye."

"Bye!" Lizzie sang, holding the door open. As David walked through, I saw him give my boobs one more quick involuntary glance, then he grinned sheepishly, and was gone.

"Lizzie!" I exclaimed. "What in the world was all that about?"

She came into the kitchen. "He had to leave. What's the problem?"

Spooning ice cream into a bowl, I looked at her, determined not to get drawn into an argument with my daughter yet again. "Would you like some ice cream?" I asked politely.

"Can't. Josh will be here any minute. Besides, I can't stand pistachio mint. You know that. That's Dad's favorite. Why do you keep buying all his favorite stuff when he's never even here?"

"When he is here, all his favorite stuff will be here, waiting for him."

"Wake up, Mom. Dad has checked out. Well, physically, he's still here. Sometimes. But mentally, emotionally…."

"Lizzie!" I snapped.

Outside, a car horn blared incessantly.

"That's Josh!" Lizzie cried. "Gotta go!"

As Lizzie ran out, she slammed the door behind her. I was left alone in the big, empty house with one bowl of ice cream where there should have been four.

-

That's the way it had been lately. I didn't mind so much about the kids. I understood they had to grow up and strike out on their own a little more. They were both doing well in school, and weren't on drugs or anything like that (as far as I knew), so aside from a rebellious hairstyle and maybe a few friends I didn't like quite as much as some of the friends they had had in the past, I wasn't too worried about them. A little sad, maybe, but not really worried.

The one I was worried about was Sam. I was losing him, and nothing I did seemed to make any difference. Making matters worse, there was nobody I could talk to about what was bothering me the most. Nobody…that is, until three days later, when I once again found myself at Baskin Robbins, picking up more ice cream to relieve the tediousness of the hot summer night. Once again, it was about ten p.m. as I was driving through the plaza, passing Circuit City right in the middle.

This time I caught David before he made it to the bus stop out by the road. He was coming out of the store, head down, looking at something in his hands. I slowed the car, rolled down the window and gave a short beep. He looked up suddenly.

"Hey, Handsome!" I called. "Need a lift?"

I don't know why I was being so flirtatious with him. It was all innocent, anyway. Surely he knew that. I saw him smile and run to the car. He got in.

"Thanks!" he said. "Perfect timing. It looks like it might rain. I really appreciate this, Mrs. McGuire."

"No problem, Gordo. I was just up here for more ice cream. We've really become ice cream junkies in our house lately." That was partially true. _I_ had become an ice cream junkie. Sam, Lizzie and Matt joined me in my obsession only occasionally. Good thing I wasn't the type of woman who put on weight easily, or I would be having a problem about now. As it was, I still looked good and I knew it. In fact, with my new surgical improvements, I looked better than good. Maybe that was why I was flirting with David. Because I knew I could.

Or maybe it was my way at getting back at Sam.

As we traveled the road home, we talked about ice cream (I found out David's favorite flavor was Cherry Vanilla) and he explained that he had been looking at his paystub. It was Friday evening of payday, so I said, "Well then, now is the time to cash that baby and go out and have some fun!"

He laughed. "Oh no, not me! All of this is going straight in the bank. I'm serious about that car." He began to tell me all about the kind of car he was hoping to buy, and I could tell that he was very excited about it, but frankly, cars never excited me much. Still, it was nice to hear him rattling on so enthusiastically. This talk led to his expectations about college life, and his dreams for the future. He still wanted to get into film production. I thought it was so nice that he had something he felt so passionately about. Lizzie had no direction whatsoever.

The ride seemed to go even faster than last time. Before I knew it, we were sitting in the driveway at home. I turned off the car and said, "Gordo, do you have a girlfriend at the moment?"

There was an awkward pause. The question had been kind of abrupt, and I'm sure it threw him off balance.

"Well…no," he said. "Not at the moment. I did a few months ago, but we broke up. And I don't want to start up anything new, being that I'm going to be leaving in a few weeks."

It suddenly occurred to me that he must be wondering why I asked. He was giving me the strangest look. I laughed a little and explained, "I'm just thinking that I wish you would date Lizzie again. You were so good for her. I really don't care for that Josh too much."

There was another pause, even more awkward than before. Finally David said, "Neither do I."

Now my "mom-alert" was at full capapcity. "Why?" I asked. "Do you know something about him?"

"Nothing bad," David said instantly, calming my fears. "It's just that he's kind of…superficial. He's kind of…"

His voice faded, and I supplied, "Kind of a jerk?"

I saw him shrug. "You said it, not me."

I thought it was so sweet how he didn't want to say anything bad about Lizzie's boyfriend. But I had no problem speaking my mind.

"He is kind of a jerk," I repeated. "And I'm afraid he's a bad influence on Lizzie. She's become somewhat superficial herself, ever since she started going out with him. Well, I mean, even more superficial. She's always had a tendency to be all about boys and clothes and popularity. At least when you were around, you seemed to be somewhat of a sobering influence in her life."

David laughed. "'Sobering influence.' Yeah, that's me. I do tend to have that effect on people."

"No, no! That's a good thing!" I insisted. "You're so smart, and so reasonable, and I remember Lizzie telling me many times that if she ever had a problem, she knew she could bring it to you and you would figure it out for her. She didn't always like what you said, but in the end she knew you would always come up with the best solution. She really needs someone like that in her life right now."

Hell! I needed someone like that in my life right now!

David shifted uncomfortably in the front seat. "Mrs. McGuire," he said, lifting up the bag at his feet. "The ice cream…"

"It will keep," I said absently. "I just wanted to let you know, Gordo, that of all the boyfriends Lizzie has had, you were the best. You were always my favorite. I wish somehow you two could…well, at least be more friendly than what I saw the other night. I never really found out what happened between the two of you, why you broke up. Lizzie never wanted to talk about it. All she would say was that you were a 'lying son of a bitch.'"

David laughed cynically. "She would see it that way."

"She would never tell me," I ventured carefully. "But maybe someday you will…?"

"Maybe someday," he said. "But right now, you've got this ice cream…"

"You'll come in and have some, won't you?" I asked. "It's not Cherry Vanilla, but it is Strawberry Cheesecake. Close enough?"

"Whose favorite flavor is that?"

"Mine," I said. Sam was on a business trip. The hell with his favorite flavor!

"I…I…really shouldn't," David stuttered. "I have to work first thing in the morning, the nine to six shift tomorrow. I really need a good night's sleep."

"Well, then, I'll let you go," I finally said. "But I just want to make sure you're hearing what I'm saying about Lizzie. I want to make sure you know how much I appreciate what a good friend you've been to her through the years."

"I know, Mrs. McGuire."

"You were so always such a decent kid. So full of ethics. So moral. Such a good influence on Lizzie." I could tell I was making him even more uncomfortable, but I felt compelled to continue. "Whenever she was with you, I never worried about her. With this new boy, Josh, sometimes I worry. I worry, even, that maybe she's sleeping with him. With you and Lizzie I never worried about that."

There was absolutely no reaction from the other side of the car. I couldn't tell what button I had pushed, if any, or what he was thinking. His sudden silence disturbed me, and before I could stop myself I was asking, "You never did…sleep together…did you?"

David sighed. "No, Mrs. McGuire, we never did. And that's the truth."

I tried not to let him hear my sigh of relief, covering it instantly with, "But with this Josh, sometimes I wonder…"

I knew that by this point he wanted nothing more than to bolt home, but I took advantage of his politeness to ask one more really embarrassing question.

"You don't know anything, do you, Gordo?"

"Anything about what?"

"About Lizzie and Josh. About whether or not they're sleeping together?"

"How would I know that?" he burst out. "You can see we barely talk to each other."

"I thought you may have heard something…you know…in school…"

"Mrs. McGuire," he said firmly. "Even if I had heard something in school, even if I did know something about Lizzie, I wouldn't rat her out to her mother. That's just not right."

I sighed. "You're right, Gordo. I'm sorry. What was I thinking?"

"You're just thinking about Lizzie and what's best for her," he said. "I understand completely. You're just being a good mom. There's nothing wrong with that."

A good mom. Well…sometimes. Sometimes, lately, though, not so much. There were things I could tell this understanding young man about how I had failed Lizzie…and Matt…to say nothing of Sam…and as I looked at him, sitting across from me in the dark front seat of the car, I suddenly knew that I could tell him… I could tell him anything, and he would listen and understand and never go blabbing it to anyone. I could trust him. And I wanted to trust him, because I hadn't really had anyone I could trust in my life for such a long time. And I really needed to tell someone what was going on, or I was going to go crazy.

"Mrs. McGuire," he said quietly. "The ice cream…"

I sighed and smiled at him. "Okay. And you have to get home."

So I let him go home. And I brought the ice cream in the house. And I put it in the freezer, but I didn't have any that night. I didn't need any that night.

Strangely, what I felt I most needed that night, like David, was a good night's sleep. Not because I needed a fresh start early in the morning for a full day's work, but because I sensed that somehow I was finally going to be able to take the desperately needed first steps for a fresh start on the rest of my life.


	3. Chapter 3: David

_When I was writing Love Finds David Gordon, Black Knight 03 at one point suggested Parker McKenzie could appear to complicate things. She didn't fit into my vision of that story, but I realized she would be perfect for causing trouble for Gordo at some point, so I put her into this tale. So thanks, Black Knight, for the suggestion! I'm also thinking if I continue writing stories in "my" Gordo's timeline , I may work up the incident described in this chapter into a whole more detailed story in itself, probably called "Parker's Revenge." Maybe that will be next!_

_(I also wonder what adventures Gordo and Adam may have had with their grand old grandma, traveling all around the country. Hmmm…did they meet anyone interesting on that trip?)_

_Anyway, I have gotten a lot of nice comments, and I'm happy to see so many supporting this storyline, tho some do find it weird, as I suspected. As for any suggestion that I might be discouraged by "flak" or negative comments---not going to happen! I write for myself FIRST, then happy to share it. Even if nobody else digs it, I do, and that's what matters most to me. I think that's got to be the first rule of writing. As Shakespeare once said, "To thine own self be true…" So, no matter what you do…be true! And write from the heart._

_Now on with the story, from David Gordon's POV:_

When I got out of work the next evening at six o'clock and saw Jo McGuire's silver SUV in front of the store, I got a really strange feeling inside. In a way, this was kind of creepy. Was she stalking me? I hadn't had anything to do with the McGuires in over two years, and now this was the third time I was going to be seeing her in less than a week. The other part of the feeling was actually pretty good, though, because I knew this meant I would be getting a ride home, and to tell the truth, the company was not all that bad.

"Hey, you!" she smiled, as I opened the passenger door.

I got in the car and quipped, "We've got to stop meeting like this!" wondering what she would do with that comment.

"Listen, mister," she said. "I've asked you two times now to come in and have ice cream, and I'm not taking no a third time. Besides, you can't refuse. I've got Cherry Vanilla, and it's nowhere near your bedtime."

I couldn't help smiling. "Okay, you got me." I figured she wanted to ask me some more stuff about Lizzie, thinking she could break down my resistance to revealing secrets. I was getting the impression that she and Lizzie were not getting along so well these days. She probably just needed somebody to talk to, someone she thought could give her some insight into her daughter. Five years ago that would have been me, but not anymore. But I didn't want to come right out and say that to Jo McGuire, if I could at all help it.

Our conversation started out much lighter, however, with her asking me how work had been and if we had any good laptop computers on sale, because despite what I may have heard her saying to Matt the other day, she actually was considering buying him a new computer for school, possibly for Christmas. I had all kinds of suggestions, and as I delivered my information, talking about megabites and RAM and video card capacity, she kept nodding her head and saying "Uh-hu…uh-hu…" until finally I had to laugh and ask, "Do you have any idea what I'm talking about?"

"Not much," she admitted, also laughing.

"Okay then, listen. You just come in the store someday and I'll hook you up with something good. You know you can trust me."

"Oh, Gordo, if there's one thing that I do know, it's that I can trust you."

Yep, that was me, good old reliable Gordo. I thought this might be a good time to request a name change, but before I could say anything, she had changed the topic again. I don't even remember what it was, but I do remember that as we were walking into her house she was joking about how upset my mother would be if she knew my appetite for dinner was being spoiled with a big bowl of Cherry Vanilla ice cream.

"Oh, my mom doesn't cook dinner much anymore," I explained. "She and my dad are pretty involved down at the community center, almost every night. They're doing these self-help classes."

"Teaching at the community center?" Jo said. "How wonderful! Though I'm sure there can't be very much money in that."

"There's not," I admitted. "They're doing it precisely because it is wonderful, because they want to give back to their community. They're both so into it."

"And what about their poor son, left at home alone with no dinner?"

"I'm a big boy," I said. "I can fend for myself."

"What does that mean?" Jo wondered with a smile. "Do you cook?" She seemed amused at the idea of me cooking.

"Not much," I admitted. "Mostly what I can do is pick up the phone and order a pizza. Or Chinese."

"Oh, you poor thing!" Jo cried.

"Not really," I said. "I get along just fine."

We were in the kitchen now, and I sat down on a stool at the island while Jo pulled two bowls out of the cabinet. She kept giving me a funny look, like she didn't believe I was getting along just fine without a homecooked meal.

"What about tonight?" she asked. "They're not teaching class on a Friday night, are they?"

"No. Tonight is their 'date night.' They're probably going out to dinner somewhere."

"'Date night'?" Jo asked. Her voice sounded a little funny, like it was about to crack.

"Yeah, every Friday night they go out on a date. They say 'date night' is the foundation for a strong marriage."

Oops. Now I knew I had said something wrong. Jo got very quiet as she took the ice cream from the freezer and opened the container. She almost looked like she was going to cry.

_Where the hell is Sam, anyway? _I finallythought to wonder. This was the second time I'd been in the house now, and there was no sign of him, not even his sneakers shoved under the dining room table, like they always used to be. Something was wrong here. Suddenly I realized that the whole house felt kind of sad and quiet and empty. If the house hadn't told me, the look on Jo's face, biting her bottom lip as she tried a small smile, was a dead giveaway.

"Mrs. McGuire---" I began, not really sure what I was going to say, but wanting to say something to make her feel better.

"Listen, Gordo---" she interrupted me, but then she was interrupted as the front door flew open and Lizzie flew in, running into the living room and turning on the TV. Lizzie glanced up at me and made a face.

"You again?"

"Lizzie!" her mother scolded.

"Sorry. Oh, hi, Gordo. How are you? What are you doing here, anyway?"

I didn't answer, because she obviously wasn't really interested. She was watching the TV Channel scroll, until she suddenly exclaimed, "Yes! It _is_ on tonight! Mom, I'm staying over Jenny's house tonight. Heather will be there too and we're going to watch scary movies and stay up till dawn, so don't call me in the morning. I'll call you. I gotta run! Heather is waiting outside."

Lizzie ran up the stairs, presumably to pack for her sleepover. We could hear her above, slamming doors and drawers.

"Where's Matt?" I asked Jo.

"Sleepover. Also."

"And Sam?" I tried.

"Business trip," she said, but there was no emotion in her words.

"So is he still…." I felt stupid, because I couldn't remember what my childhood friend's father did for a living.

"No, he's got a new job," Jo said, almost coldly. "A _new_ new job. He's been at it only about six months. It's Sales. The commissions are supposed to be very good, very lucrative. Of course we haven't seen 'lucrative' yet."

"What is he selling?"

Jo rolled her eyes. "You don't even want to know."

Now I was intrigued. "No, tell me."

"It's this…stupid stuff. This…plastic stuff, this see-thru---"

"Like plexiglass?"

"Yes, like that, but it's supposed to be better. And they make all these office supply products out of it, so he goes around to all these businesses and----Aaargh!"

The ice cream was very hard, and she had broken the spoon in it, throwing the broken stem of it on the counter.

I got up. "Here, let me try," I said, taking over. I threw the broken spoon pieces in the trash, then got a knife from the silverware drawer, almost surprised that I remembered where the silverware drawer was. With the knife I cut a cone shape into the top of the ice cream, then turned the contained over the bowl. The cone slipped out with no problem.

Jo was sitting down now, watching me. "Gordo, you're so smart," she marveled.

I smiled at her, proud of myself, but also a little embarrassed to have her fussing over me again. I cut another geometric shape from the ice cream container and plopped that piece in the other bowl. "Which do you want?" I asked. "The cone or the polygon?"

"The cone," she said. "It looks smoother."

I put the ice cream container back in the freezer and just as I was about to sit down again, we heard Lizzie bounding down the stairs.

"Okay, I'm going!" she called. Then suddenly she appeared in the kitchen again, and looked directly at me for a long moment. Actually, it was not so much a "look" as a "death stare." We may have been out of touch for quite a while, but I knew Lizzie McGuire like the back of my hand, and I had a pretty good idea what she was thinking: _What the HELL are you doing in my house, Gordon?_

"Lizzie, don't forget that tomorrow night we're going to Gammy McGuire's for dinner, " Jo said. "Don't be late. Try to be home by four o'clock tomorrow, okay, honey?"

"Is Dad going?"

"Lizzie, you know your father is on a business trip."

"If Dad isn't going I don't see why I have to."

"Lizzie, I'm not going to talk to you about this now. Your friend is waiting outside, and besides, we have company."

"Gordo isn't 'company,'" Lizzie said with an almost-disgusted look on her face. "He's just Gordo."

"Lizzie!"

"You're right, Mom. Heather is waiting. Bye!"

Lizzie ran out, and I saw Jo put her hand over her forehead.

_Wow,_ I thought. _This family is having some real issues… _No wonder I had gotten the impression that Jo wanted to talk with me. But I really didn't know what I could say about Lizzie that would be of any help. Lizzie had changed quite a bit. She seemed to be holding onto quite a bit of resentment. She couldn't possibly still be angry about…?

My mind was slipping into the past, but I was pulled back up by Jo's gentle question. "Maybe now would be a good time for you to tell me that story?"

"What story?" I questioned.

"The one you mentioned last night. About what happened between you and Lizzie."

I sighed. I really didn't want to go there, but I was starting to feel it was inevitable.

"There's obviously a lot of hard feelings between you two."

"Not _between,_" I said. "I have no hard feelings. I've said my 'I'm sorry's.' I'm past it. It would be good for Lizzie if she could get past it too."

We ate our ice cream in silence. The TV was still on in the next room, and we could hear the advertisements of what movies were going to be on TV tonight. I wasn't really listening, though, because I found that I couldn't keep my mind out of the past. Jo had no idea why Lizzie was so mad at me. Maybe she deserved to hear the story. Then she could stop being so annoyed with Lizzie, and start being annoyed with me, where the blame really lay. Sort of. It was a complicated situation.

"Okay," I said finally as I finished my ice cream. "I'm going to give you the Reader's Digest Condensed Version. Then maybe you'll stop saying you wish Lizzie was still going out with me."

Jo looked at me, and I guess she could tell this was going to be difficult, because she said, "Would you like to sit in the living room? It will be more comfortable."

I nodded and we went into the living room. It was still daylight outside, but here the blinds were drawn against the heat of the day, so the room was a little darker, which was good. I sat down in the overstuffed chair. Jo spread out on the couch, pulling her feet up underneath her. She muted the TV but did not turn it off.

I took a deep breath and said, "Almost the whole time Lizzie and I were dating," I began right away, "there was this other girl who was always…bothering me, flirting with me, in my face. You might have heard of Parker McKenzie."

Jo nodded. "I've heard of her."

"Well, I guess she's always had this thing for me. I liked her for a little bit, way back in middle school, but that was long over by the time Lizzie and I started dating in tenth grade. But Parker wouldn't give up. And I guess it really bothered her when she saw how happy Lizzie and I were together, and basically, I think it became her mission in life to break us up."

"I've heard of her," Jo repeated. "Lizzie told me Parker was after you. Are you telling me that you cheated on Lizzie with Parker McKenzie?"

"No!" I exclaimed. "Absolutely not! That never happened. Well, that's not exactly what happened."

"Gordo," Jo said flatly. "What exactly happened?"

I looked at her and saw the mother lioness, intent on protecting her cubs. As much as it seemed she was delighted with my company these last few days, that's how perturbed she looked at the idea that I may have done something to break Lizzie's heart. Best to have it out, and quickly. I would tell the truth, the way I had always perceived it, and let her draw her own conclusions.

"The first thing you have to understand." I clarified, " is that when I say I wasn't interested in Parker, I'm telling the absolute truth. There was no appeal whatsoever. The girl is weird, obnoxious…and a royal pain in the ass. There was no more chance that I was going to drop Lizzie to go out with Parker McKenzie than there was that I would drop Lizzie to go out with Ethan Craft. It just wasn't happening. I explained this to Lizzie, I don't know how many times, and I thought she understood, but now when I look back, I guess she really didn't.

"Every time Parker would do something, send me a card or a gift, or say something really suggestive, or brush up against me, Lizzie always got more mad at me than she did at Parker. I didn't understand it! What was I supposed to do?"

"I'm sure Lizzie wanted you to tell the bitch off," Jo suggested. "She wanted to hear you let Parker know in no uncertain terms that her shenanigans weren't going to fly."

"But I did tell her! Several times! But it never got through. Talking to that girl was like talking to a brick wall. She was in her own little world, all fantasy, no reality. So after a while I just stopped talking to her altogether.

"Now most normal people would take the hint," I continued. "But Parker was not normal. And she was not very nice, either. She did something really horrible to me, something I can never forgive. She really screwed up me and Lizzie."

"So then you're saying it was all her fault?" Jo asked.

I bit my lip, and to be completely honest, I had to say, "Not all her fault. I wasn't blameless. And neither was Lizzie. I mean, Lizzie should have been a little more forgiving. She should have been a little more understanding…"

"Gordo," Jo said, seeing that my thoughts were wandering. "What happened?"

"It was June 14," I said. "You know, Flag Day. A bunch of us went down to the beach. It was a good day, lots of fun. It was getting late, but all of the sudden, there's Parker and some of her friends, they just show up. I'm in the water, I don't even know she's there, until all of the sudden she's right behind me, I feel someone behind me, touching me, and I think it's Lizzie, so I---"

"Oh, Gordo! No!"

"Wait, it gets worse than that," I explained. "What happens is all of the sudden I feel someone pulling down my swimming shorts, and I can't believe Lizzie would do something like that----Lizzie would never do something like that, Mrs. McGuire, at least not the Lizzie I know…I knew---and when I turn around, there's Parker, laughing her head off, and she pushes me down in the water, and while I'm down, she gets my shorts down by my ankles and that's it, they're gone, I'm stark naked in the water.

"So of course I'm flipping out, saying 'Give me my shorts back! Give me my shorts back!' but she just keeps laughing hysterically, and I go after her, but she throws them to her friend, who throws them to the other friend, who takes them out of the water, and I'm yelling to my friend Danny, 'Hey, go get my shorts back from Kitty' the girl who had them, but Danny has no idea what I'm talking about, and by the time I'm able to explain it to him and he takes off looking for Kitty, it's too late, everybody's looking in the water, knowing that something is going on.

"I so much did not want to draw attention to myself. There were some people there, some guys, who were not really my friends, and I was afraid if they knew I was naked in the water they would think it was the biggest joke in the world to drag me out in front of everybody, and obviously I did not want that. All I wanted was to get back in my shorts and beat the living crap out of Parker. Sorry. She was that annoying."

"No, no," Jo said, curling up on the couch. "I'm just hearing about this now and I want to beat the crap out of her."

At least I knew Jo was on my side. At least this far along in the story. But the worst was yet to come.

"Anyway," I said. "All I could think about at this point was how to resolve this situation as quickly as possible. So I say to Parker 'What do you want from me?' And she says, 'I want you to kiss me. Right here. Right now. You give me one good kiss, and I'll wave to Kitty and have her bring your shorts back.'"

"Oh, Gordo…" Jo commiserated.

I took a deep breath. "So I said okay. One kiss, really quick, under the water, way out here where nobody would see us, and then this thing would be over. I didn't have time to argue with her. When I looked to the shore, I could see some people watching us, but thankfully Lizzie was not there. I didn't even know if Lizzie knew yet that Parker was here. I just wanted to get this thing over with. So I told Parker okay, and I made her come far out in the ocean, so only our heads were above the water, and I let her kiss me.

"Only she didn't just kiss me. She was touching me, with her hands, under the water, and she grabbed on to…well, you can imagine what she grabbed on to, and she wouldn't let go, she just kept holding it and pumping it and I thought I was going to die, I thought I was going to drown, all my strength went right out of me, and there was nothing I could do, I couldn't get away from her, and I couldn't throw her off me, even if I wanted to, which I didn't want to, because as scary as this was, it also felt so incredible…"

I looked down, afraid to catch Jo's eyes. What she must think of me at this point!

"And then it got even worse," I had to admit. "Because with her free hand she took one of my hands and put it…somewhere it should never have been…and she held it there, pressing into her, until it was absolutely impossible for me to take it away. Then it was like I had no choice, I couldn't help myself. I didn't even like this girl, I more or less despised her, and still I…I…"

God! I felt miserable just about now. I hadn't talked about any of this in so long, but seeing Lizzie again in her house had made me feel really bad all over again about what had happened that summer. Yet as miserable as I felt, it also felt good to be getting it off my chest.

I continued the story. "And then." I said, "I guess we were drifting into more shallow water and after a while I was aware that we were chest high in the water again, and then practically only waist high, and we were still kissing, and we were still touching each other down there and I guess that's when Lizzie saw us…"

I dared to glance up and saw that Jo had one hand over her face, so I couldn't see her expression. I could only imagine what she must be thinking, and I didn't imagine it was anything good.

"By the time I came to my senses," I said quietly, "and managed to get my swimming shorts back on, I ran to look for Lizzie, but she had already left, one of the older kids gave her a ride home. I came over here that night, but Lizzie wouldn't see me, and she screamed at me through the door of her room, saying that she hated me and never wanted to see me again."

"I remember that night," Jo said., nodding. "I knew something must have happened, but Lizzie would never tell me what it was. Now I see why. It's much too embarrassing. For her. And for you. And I can't believe you just told me all that, Gordo."

I sighed, starting to stand up. "Yeah, well….It's been nice knowing you, Mrs. McGuire. I think I'll just go now…"

"Don't you dare!" Jo said suddenly. "You sit right there."

I sat down again, startled by her tone. She looked at me and sighed and shook her head, but still I could not read her expression.

In my guilty, miserable state, all I could think was _Oh, brother! Now I'm going to get an earful!_


	4. Chapter 4: Jo

_To Black Knight 03, Miranda will come into this a little bit in a few chapters, but I doubt I can naturally fit in a reference to my OC Nicole, tho we may see her or at least hear of her in "Parker's Revenge," which I will write someday, but not right away. _

_Because I have ANOTHER story on the back burner that is starting to consume me! "And now for something completely different..." because this one is going to be Total Tudge-Fluff! I'm so excited! Can't wait to start it, but I won't start anything new until I finish this one up. _

_And I will finish this one up! It's extensively noted, all it needs now is a few more good sessions of "Put Your Ass in a Chair and Keep It There for a Long, Long Time." (the secret for being prolific, which I heard a long time ago and have never been able to forget.)_

_To green aura__: I love your lengthy heartfelt reviews. You keep writing reviews like that and I'll keep writing stories for you to read!_

_And now on with the show... _

-

-

I looked at the boy sitting in my overstuffed chair. Once again he was a boy, for the first time in two years, a small uncertain little boy being swallowed up by the chair and by his own overwhelming sense of guilt and shame. Clearly he thought he was a horrible person. I looked at him and sighed .

"Oh, Gordo…"

"So now you know," he said. "That's why Lizzie can't even stand the sight of me anymore. And can you blame her?"

"You were right, Gordo, what you said before."

"What did I say before? I've said so many things now, I don't know which one you're talking about."

"When you said Lizzie should have been more forgiving, more understanding."

His eyes popped. "Are you serious?"

"Of course!" I said. "But let's back up just a minute. You were also right when you said you were not completely blameless. But what you did, letting that Parker McKenzie get the best of you, take advantage of you, that was nowhere near as bad as what she did to you and Lizzie. She knew Lizzie would see that. That's what it was about, wasn't it? A show, a plot, a plan for breaking you two up. And it worked.

"And I'm disappointed in Lizzie for letting Parker win that one. She should have fought for her man, instead of giving in so easily to her own hurt emotions. She should have realized what Parker was up to, how she manipulated you and the entire situation, and took advantage of you…of your…well, your _maleness…"_

"What the heck does that mean?" David asked in bewilderment.

"Gordo! Come on! She stripped you and grabbed you and practically raped you. What other choice did you have?"

"I could have chosen not to kiss her back. I definitely should have chosen not to touch her. I could have resisted her a little more than I did. I mean, _crap_! I don't even like the girl. Why did I do all that stuff if I don't even like her?"

"Gordo! Who do you think you are?" I demanded. "Superman? If a girl grabs your cock and starts 'pumping it' as you said, she might as well have dunked you in a vat of Kryptonite. That was so unfair."

Suddenly he had his hands over his face, but I could tell that underneath he was beet red.

"I'm sorry," I said gently. "It must be kind of difficult for you to hear me talking this way. But we're both adults now, and I'm just trying to tell you how I see it."

"I appreciate that you're trying to make me feel better about this," David said from underneath his hands.

"Is it working?" I asked.

"Not sure," he said after a moment, his faced still covered. "I'm still trying to get over the shock of hearing you say 'cock.'"

I laughed a little. "I think we've turned a corner, wouldn't you say?"

"Is this one of those rites of passage they're always talking about?" he wondered. "The day your ex-girlfriend's mother starts talking dirty to you?"

"Hey, I didn't start it," I reminded. "You told the story."

"You asked me to tell it."

"You didn't have to tell it so well."

"I scored high on the verbal section of the SAT. I'm a natural born storyteller. It's a blessing. And a curse."

"Okay, look," I said. "We can continue going back and forth like this all day. Or we can get past it."

"I choose 'Get Past It.'" David said, finally uncovering his face. Now he was a man again.

I smiled at him. "You're incredible, Gordo. Do you know that?"

I wasn't sure exactly what I meant by that, but I felt it had to be said. He was incredible. Lizzie was a fool to have let Parker win that one.

"Mrs. McGuire," he said. "I think it's time---"

"I think it's time for you to stop calling me Mrs. McGuire," I said.

He laughed a little. "That's funny. Because I was just going to say I think it's time you stop calling me 'Gordo.' My name is David."

"And my name is Jo," I said, leaning in to shake his hand. "Nice to meet you, David."

He smiled softly. "Nice to meet you, Jo."

-

That was a turning point indeed.

I don't remember exactly what happened after that, but somehow he was running home to change his clothes and pick up a DVD for us to watch, and I was ordering a pizza. He told me that most of his closest friends had already gone on to their colleges, and those that remained would be out on dates on a Friday night. He had been planning to catch up on some laundry and e-mail this evening, but when he heard that I had never seen _Moulin Rouge (_which we had noticed being advertised on the TV Channel scroll which Lizzie had left on), David suggested he run home to get it and we could watch it together. I think he was a little lonely, and I know I definitely was more than a little lonely. So we decided to be lonely together.

David thought it was funny that I remembered that he liked olives and green peppers on his pizza more than anything else. "And I thought _I_ was a plethora of useless information!" he joked. The truth was I also liked olives and green peppers on pizza more than anything else, that was why I had so easily remembered his preferences.

And so one large olive and green pepper pizza was on its way to my house when David came back through the front door, dressed in his palest, softest blue jeans and a plain gray tee shirt, his curls still moist from the quick shower he had taken at home.

David seemed a little embarrassed that he had _Moulin Rouge_ in his collection, describing it as a "chick flick" for most people, but a "guilty pleasure" for him. As we waited for the pizza, he reviewed the film for me, from an aspiring filmmaker's point of view, talking about its unique vision, bold musical choices and stylized settings. He also added with a sheepish grin that he was a pretty serious Nicole Kidman fan.

The pizza arrived and we settled back on the couch with food and drink for the stomach, and a feast for the eyes and ears in this unusual but highly entertaining movie. David was so glad I liked it. He said most people either adored it or despised it. I was delighted to find myself on the "Adore it!" list.

After the movie, stuffed with pizza and feeling fine, we sat back and talked some more about all kinds of things. It was getting close to eleven o'clock now, and I knew that meant Sam would be checking in momentarily.

The phone rang. "Oh! There he is!"

I picked up the phone and had a quick conversation with my husband. Yes, the kids were fine, they were both sleeping out tonight. I was watching a movie. I glanced at the TV, which was playing softly in the background. "Yes, it's _Groundhog Day. _ Oh, honey, you know I love Bill Murray! Almost as much as you."

I noticed that David was leaning back on the couch, his arms stretched lazily over the top of his head, watching me.

"Yes, the house is locked up tight," I said to Sam over the phone. "Everything is fine. You'll be in Monday? Oh, not till Tuesday? Sam!"

By the time I got off the phone, what had started as a nice-enough conversation had turned into another ache of disappointment and resentment. I looked at David looking at me and I knew he could tell that something was wrong. He didn't ask. I guess he could tell by this time that I was not going to be shy about speaking my mind.

I sat back, sighing, and he sat forward a little, waiting.

"Damn!" I hissed. "_Damn it, Sam_!"

Still David said nothing. This was what I had been hoping for, the chance to unload my troubles on this sensitive, trustworthy soul, and though I really wasn't shy, I just didn't know how to begin. If I started at the beginning, we would be here all night. I opted for the direct approach.

I looked at David and said, "I guess you can tell something is wrong."

"I picked up on it," he said quietly, turning towards me a little.

"Well, it's like this," I said, letting out a deep breath. "My marriage is in trouble. Deep trouble. 'May not survive' kind of trouble. Nothing is like it used to be. I still love Sam…so much…and I always will, but I'm not so sure anymore that he really…still…"

I pressed my fists into the sides of my face. I had expected I would cry if I ever started talking about this, but I hadn't realized it would be so quickly. I could barely spit out three complete sentences, and already the tears were threatening.

"Is it the job?" David asked gently, trying to give my thoughts some direction. "Is it because he's away from home so much?"

"Oh, that's a good excuse, isn't it?" I said bitterly. "He's emotionally absent because he's physically absent? Or is it the other way around? Which came first, the chicken or the egg? He likes his job too much, I think. He's looking at for the big bucks, once he gets his territory established. And he's looking for the opportunity to excel as Top Salesman of the Year! If you only knew all the motivational _crap_ they fill their heads with at that company! Nothing is more important than success! Oh, yeah? Well , Mr. Top Salesman, what about your family? What about your home? What about your freakin' _wife_?"

I could feel the anger welling up inside me, and I knew David could sense it too, because he said, "Jo…" using my name for the first time, which sounded really strange, by the way. And then he repeated it. "Jo…I think you really need to talk to someone about this."

"I am!" I exclaimed. "I'm talking to you!"

"No, I mean somebody who can really help you. Like…like maybe…"

"Like one of your parents? You mean a _psychiatrist?_"

"I mean someone who is…more mature, and has more knowledge about stuff like this. And can offer you worthwhile advice."

"I don't need advice, David." I said his name, and that also felt a little strange, but I went on. "I just need to vent. Didn't you ever just need to vent?"

"Well, sure. But you have so many friends. I mean, even my mom, you and her used to be pretty close, years ago. You could vent to her, and she could help you out…as a friend, or as a psychiatrist, if that's what you needed. But as a friend, mostly."

"I don't have any friends," I said miserably. "Well, I mean, yes, I have lots of friends, lots of girlfriends that I can have lunch with and go shopping with and talk on the phone with about which laundry detergent works better than another, and how are the kids doing in school. But I don't have anybody I can talk to about _this. _ Because this is just too damn embarrassing."

"Jo! It's not embarrassing. Lots of people go through it. My parents went through it a few years back. It's very common. Your friends should understand, they should be willing to help."

"I know they would be," I said. "They're not the problem. It's me. I don't want anybody to know. The McGuires have always put on such a happy face to the world. We're the perfect family, aren't we? Nice house, two beautiful children, everything perfect…

"And on top of all that, look at me! I've dolled myself up, new boobs and all, and _still_ I can't hold on to my husband! And the worst part of all is that I'm not even losing him to another woman. I'm losing him to a freakin' _job_! He would rather spend time at his job than with me! It's so humiliating! I can't talk to anybody about this, David. Don't you see that? Don't you understand?"

It was amazing that I hadn't started crying yet. I could feel the tears just below the surface of my face. They were on the way, but there was one more thing I had to say before they got there, and I managed to stay one step ahead of the tears with a miserable exclamation of "And now to make matters even worse, the one person I thought maybe I could talk to about all this, the one person who would listen and not judge me and not run off and tell everybody else what a loser I am---that one person says I should really talk to somebody else!"

Now I was crying. Now I was bawling. I didn't care anymore. I was way past the point of worrying about being humiliated. This was just about the most humiliating thing that could happen. And yet it felt so good to finally be able to say even as much as I had said, and to let the tears out after holding them in for so long.

And it felt even better still when, after I'd been openly weeping for a few moments, my hands clenched over my eyes, I felt David's arms go around me, comforting me, his face pressed against my back.

He squeezed me and said, "Jo…Jo…I'm sorry….I didn't mean I didn't want to help you. It's just that I….I don't know if I'm the right person. I don't know what I can do…"

"You can listen," I said between sobs. "I just need someone to listen."

I felt him nodding against my back. "I can do that," he said. "I'm sorry, I didn't understand before. But I can do that. I would be happy to do that."

Now that I'd heard at least that much, slowly my tears began to subside. He kept holding me, and it was very comforting. We sat like that for quite a while, until finally I felt a lot more under control. I took my hands away from my eyes and squeezed his arm in front of me to let him know it was okay to let me go now. He sat back, his arm over the back of the couch, and looked at me, smiling sadly.

"I must look a fright…" I said, wiping my eyes.

"No," David said quietly. "You're a very beautiful lady, Jo. And a wonderful person. And Sam's an idiot to want to spend more time selling plastic do-hingys rather than hanging out here with you."

I managed a small smile. "And why is it, David, that you thought you wouldn't know the right things to say?"

He was so smart. He was so mature, and so incredible. And such a good listener. That night he listened intently as I went on and on about everything that was troubling me. He didn't say much, but he kept looking at me, and nodding, and smiling now and then to encourage me to continue.

I hadn't realized until I started talking to him how much I had to say, how much was really bothering me. But I felt so comfortable talking to my new friend. So quickly I had gone from thinking of him as Lizzie's friend, Lizzie's ex-boyfriend, to thinking of him as my very own friend, my confidant, the one person in the world I could trust with all my deepest secrets.

I checked with him at one point and said, "Now you're not going to tell any of this to anyone, are you?"

"Jo, who am I going to tell?"

"You wouldn't talk to Lizzie?"

"As you've seen, Lizzie and I don't really talk anymore."

"You wouldn't say anything to Sam?"

"No, but I think you need to say something to Sam. In fact, you need to say all of this to Sam. He needs to know how you feel."

I frowned, throwing myself back on the couch. "I don't think Sam really cares so much anymore how I feel."

"I'm sure you're wrong," David said. "I'm sure he cares very much."

"You haven't seen him lately, David. All he cares about now is money and success. He's obsessed. He has only the slightest interest in his kids, and even less interest in me. And no interest whatsoever in sex."

What was I saying? Was I going to talk to him about sex? What was I thinking? Where was I going with this?

I thought for sure I would have embarrassed him with this kind of talk, but he very maturely asked, "Are you sure that's not a physical problem? I mean, has he seen a doctor for it?"

"You mean is he impotent? No, he's not impotent. He can still do it. He just doesn't want to. How do you know so much about this kind of stuff, anyway?"

"Are you forgetting that my parents are psychiatrists?"

I laughed lightly. "What do you do? Read their case files?"

"Sometimes. Some of them are pretty fascinating, actually. It makes you feel better about yourself when you realize how really messed up some other people are. It makes you think, 'Hey, I'm not doing so bad after all.' "

"So where would you put me on the list?" I asked. "I mean, how messed up am I really?"

"Jo, you're not messed up at all," he said. "You're just sorting through some pretty normal issues, but your biggest problem is that you're not making your needs known, at least not to anyone that can do anything to help you get what will be best for you. You're playing the martyr, suffering in silence. A lot of women do that, you know. You need to assert yourself. You need to let your husband know what you need, that you need him, not his money and not his success."

"David," I marveled. "Have you ever considered following in your parents' footsteps? You would make a wonderful psychiatrist, I think."

He shook his head. "Not for me."

"But you're so insightful!"

"Not really," he insisted. "Any of your girlfriends could have told you the same thing, if only you would have felt comfortable enough to open up to them. It seems to me that Sam's concerned about his image, his professional image, but you're concerned about your personal image. What you said before about the McGuires being the perfect family…it's okay to admit that you have problems, that you're not perfect."

I smiled playfully, saying, "And this coming from the boy who re-did his second grade Thanksgiving turkey hand puppet four times because he accidentally colored outside the lines?"

"I've grown up a lot since then."

"I can see you have," I smiled. "And it suits you well, David. It really does."

It was closer to two o'clock than one o'clock when the phone unexpectedly rang. I jumped, instinctively exclaiming, "The kids!" But when I answered, I heard the familiar voice and replied, "Hi, Roberta! Yes, he's still here." I put my hand immediately over the receiver and whispered, "It's your mom. She's looking for you."

"I left a note that I was going over Lizzie's to watch movies," David said, taking the phone, then, "Yeah, Mom.. Hi, Mom. Sure, I know… I'm on my way home, don't worry. .. Yeah, everyone is fine here…Yeah, she is…Yeah, I will…Okay. See you soon."

David handed me the phone and I hung it up. "She sends her greetings to everyone," he said. "She asked about you."

"And you told her I was fine. You told her everyone was fine."

"I told you. I'm not going to go blabbing your personal problems to anyone. Especially not to my mom, the psychiatrist."

I smiled gratefully, knowing I could trust him, yet also noting that his description of "going over Lizzie's to watch movies" though accurate in one sense, was not entirely truthful. But I knew it was best that way, as did he.

A few moments later I was walking him to the door, saying, "Thank you so much, David. For everything. You are such a wonderful young man."

"Thank _you,_" he said. "For the ice cream. And the pizza."

"No, thank _you,_" I said. "For the listening ear. I really needed that."

"Anytime," he smiled.

I couldn't let him go without giving him a hug. I wrapped my arms around him, my chin just below his shoulder. He was so much taller now! I reached up, thinking I could plant a motherly kiss on his forehead, as I used to when he would play in the yard with Lizzie and scrape his knee or his elbow. Then I would have to put Neosporin on his boo-boo, kiss his forehead and tell him everything was going to be alright. But I couldn't reach his forehead anymore, and my kiss landed instead on his left cheek.

But that was okay, I guess.

And this time, he was the one who said to me, "Don't worry, Jo. Everything is going to be alright."

-

-

_AN: Next Chapter from Lizzie's POV!_


	5. Chapter 5: Lizzie

Ever since Dad took that new job, Mom had been acting a little weird, but what was going on now was stranger and more embarrassing than anything that had happened yet.

The eye surgery---okay, I guess I can understand that. The boobs---what was she thinking? She looks good now, sure, but moms aren't supposed to look good…I mean, not _that _good! It was like she was going through some mid-life crisis, trying to be a teenager again. And then when Gordo came back into the picture---well, that was just too much.

I didn't like what was happening. I was so busy these days with Josh and all my other friends that I was barely ever home, but lately it seemed like every time I was, who was there? Gordo! _What the hell?_

I guess Mom started picking him up after work all the time, and then she would bring him back to our house, and she would feed him, and they would watch movies together, and they would talk and talk and talk. Ugh! It was just too weird.

She started cooking for him. She wouldn't admit it, but she would make an extra serving of whatever it was, and if Matt wanted seconds (which he always did these days) she would say no, make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if you're hungry, the real food was for Dad, in case he was hungry when he came home.

But Dad was almost never home, and if he was, he was so busy working on his computer, figuring out sales projections and whatnot, that he really didn't eat anything Mom would cook for him. And then the next day I would find Gordo sitting at the kitchen counter, eating the leftovers Mom had prepared for Dad! Huh?

Now to be fair about the movies, Mom did always ask me and Matt if we wanted to sit down and watch also. She kept talking about having a nice "family time" like we used to. Kind of forgetting that Gordo was not actually a part of our family.

But usually I was on my way out with Josh. I would go out with Josh, and there were Mom and Gordo sitting on the couch, watching movies. And I would come home from being with Josh, and there were Mom and Gordo, still sitting on the couch, watching movies, or like I said before, talking and talking. I swear! Their dates went on for longer than mine did with Josh! I only hoped that while I was out of the house, they weren't doing what Josh and I had just been doing!

_Man, I am freaking myself out now!_

And you know, it would have been bad enough if this was happening with anyone, but because it was _Gordo_ that made it all the worse. I knew Gordo. I knew him like the back of my hand. At least, I always thought I had, up until that day at the beach, the summer after tenth grade, when he humiliated the hell out of me by making out with Parker McKenzie in the ocean, right in front of everyone.

Of course he tried to explain it away, he tried to say she had _forced_ him to do it, but that was too easy and too stupid an explanation. God, he broke my heart. I really thought he loved me, you know? And then to do that….

Anyway, that's what made it so bad now. Because I knew what Gordo was capable of, that he could be an absolute pig, and he had no qualms about cheating, and probably would have no qualms about making my mom cheat on my dad. I don't know if she would really do it on her own, but Gordo kind of weaseled his way into her life, and you know that despite everything, he was looking really cute these days with the long hair and a little more in the bod department than he used to have, and besides all that, he could be really sweet sometimes, almost irresistible…

But why was he doing this? Why wouldn't he leave my family alone? Was he trying to get back at me for something? Was that what this was all about?

And to make matters _even_ worse, my Dad, as usual, was absolutely clueless. I was actually there the first time Dad saw them together. It was about a week after Mom and Gordo had started "hanging out," and Dad pulled up after a long hard day at the office, just as Josh was letting me out of his car. We walked into the house together, and there they were, Gordo and Mom, sitting on the couch together, right next to each other, a giant bowl of popcorn between them.

I immediately saw a guilty shadow pass over Gordo's face as he sat up straight and pulled away from my mom a little.

_Okay, _I thought. _This is going to be good…_

But it wasn't good. It was lame. Mom said, "Oh, Sam! I'm so glad you're here. I've been wanting for you to be able to say hi to David."

Oh, yeah. She was calling him David now.

But Dad didn't. He went over, and Gordo stood up and they shook hands, and Dad said, "Gordo! Wow! Look at you!"

I'd had to look at him in school every day for the last two years since the beach thing happened, so I didn't see it, but apparently people that hadn't seen him for a long time couldn't get over how "grown up" he looked now.

Big woop.

So anyway, my dad sat down and they talked about how many inches Gordo had grown, and where he was going to college, and then my dad talked his ear off about that plastic crap he's been selling. Then they talked about computers, because Mom mentioned that Gordo was working at Circuit City and was going to help them get a good deal on a new computer for Hawkboy. Then they talked about sports. Then they talked about cars. And by the time Gordo finally left that night, he had my dad totally bamboozled, saying what a fine young man he had turned out to be.

_Aaaargh!_

Then another time, about a week after this happened, I was coming in late at night, and I noticed Dad's car in the driveway, so I knew he was home, not away on one of his business trips. It was a weekend night (I don't remember which night) and it was well after midnight. So all things considered, I certainly didn't expect to find _Gordo_ sitting on my living room couch. And I certainly didn't expect to find my mom asleep on the couch next to him, with her head on a pillow, and the pillow---to be fair---not exactly _in_ his lap, but pretty damn close.

I just stared at them, and I could feel my face twitching, and all I could say was, "Where the hell is my dad?"

"He's upstairs," Gordo said quietly, so as not to wake my mom, I guess. "I think he went to sleep."

I let out a mighty sigh of exasperation and spun around, bounding up the stairs. I went straight to my parents' bedroom door and knocked on it, perhaps more loudly than I needed to.

"Dad? Dad? Are you asleep?"

"…Lizzie…?" came the muffled voice. "Lizzie, what is it? Come in."

I opened the door and looked into the darkened room. Dad was lying in bed, shielding his eyes against the light from the hallway. "What is it?" he repeated. "What's wrong, Lizzie?"

"What's wrong?" I exclaimed. " What's wrong? Dad! While you are asleep upstairs, Mom is asleep downstairs, on the couch, with her head _in Gordo's lap!"_

My dad made that confused, bewildered face that is so typical of him. "In his lap?" he asked.

"Well…not exactly in his lap. But very close. It doesn't look right, believe me. It isn't right. It just isn't right. Don't you even care, Dad?"

He sighed heavily. "Lizzie," he said. "It's Gordo."

"I know!" I exclaimed.

"So it's Gordo," he said again. "Your childhood friend. He's practically part of the family. What are you so concerned about?"

"Dad!" I was beside myself with frustration. "Would you just get up and come downstairs and look at them? If you saw them, you would know what I'm talking about."

"Listen, Lizzie," Dad said, and I could hear the impatience growing in his voice. "I think you're over-reacting. I think you still have a bit of resentment left over about what happened with you and Gordo in tenth grade. But you can't let that cloud your judgement about his friendship with your mother."

"Dad! Did you hear what you just said? 'His friendship with your mother?' Is that right? Does that sound right? Does that sound normal?"

"No, it's not exactly normal," Dad admitted. "But since Gordo's been around, your Mom seems a lot less depressed. She won't talk to any of her old friends anymore for some reason, but she will talk to Gordo, and it seems to be helping her, so I'm all for it. It's keeping her happy, and it's keeping her off my back, so I'm happy. And now I would be really, really happy if you would let me get back to sleep."

I gasped. _Clueless!_ Dad had no idea what was going on, practically under his very nose. I closed the door, leaving him in his mindless, clueless state of sleep. I decided then and there to wash my hands of the whole businsess. If he didn't care, why should I?

I went downstairs, intending to tell Gordo that I didn't give a damn what he did with my mother, but while I was upstairs apparently he had wiggled his way out from underneath her pillow, and he was gone.

Okay. So much the better. I didn't really want to talk to him anyway.


	6. Chapter 6: Lizzie

_These two Lizzie chapters were originally supposed to be only one chapter, but it got so long, I thought I'd split it up. First person Lizzie is a lot of fun to write, by the way! I love her "voice" and I hope it sounds authentic!_

Another week went by and things went from bad to worse when Mom decided to arrange a going away party for Gordo and Miranda.

Gordo was going to school in Berkeley, of course, and Miranda would be leaving shortly for the University of New Mexico. I guess Mom got nostalgic and thought it would be nice to have them both over with their parents for a big dinner party to remember how swell everything had been between us all so many years ago. So that's what happened that particular Saturday afternoon.

I was not all that enthused. First, Mom would not let me invite Josh. Second, I didn't really want to spend time with Gordo. It was bad enough I had to see him as much as I did. The only bright spot was that I would get to see Miranda. We didn't really hang out so much any more. Nothing bad had happened between us (like it did between me and Gordo), but we had just sort of drifted apart through high school. Still, it would be nice to see her and talk with her and give her a proper sendoff.

Some of the Sanchez' relatives lived in New Mexico, and Miranda would be staying with them while she went to college. So in honor of her Mexican relatives in the great state of New Mexico, Mom decided to prepare Mexican food for the party. I'm sure the fact that Mexican food was Gordo's favorite also entered into this decision somehow.

Anyway, they all came over, Miranda with her parents Edward and Daniela, and Gordo with his parents, Howard and Roberta. Dad was even here for this one, and it was actually kind of nice to see all the moms and dads together again after so many years.

And it was great to have Miranda over the house again. Of course, she had no problem with Gordo, even though she knew I did, so there was some awkwardness at first as the three of us sat around, talking a little, trying to pretend (for our parents' sake, at least) that nothing had ever happened, that we were still the best of friends.

It was kind of sad, actually, because at one point we really had been the best of friends. Who could tell it would ever end up like this, all three of us going off in different directions, maybe never going to see each other again, or maybe only briefly when we came back home to visit our parents? I was really feeling the sadness, and I think Miranda and Gordo were too.

But this was supposed to be a party! And the good part about a party is that there is usually the opportunity to have a drink. The Sanchez's had brought a huge bottle of Sangria, and the Gordon's provided a bottle of rum and a twelve pack of coke. Our parents started drinking first, so that by the time Miranda, Gordo and I decided to sneak some rum in our sodas, if only to break the tension a little, the old folks were already slightly wasted and either didn't realize what we were doing or didn't care.

Thanks God Hawkboy was at a friend's house that night! He didn't see anybody drinking, and he didn't see what happened afterwards.

Since I hadn't really been talking to Miranda much, she had no idea what was happening in my house lately, and I didn't tell her. I wanted to see if she would pick up on the fact that there was something weird going on between Gordo and my mom. I was also curious to see how Gordo and Mom were going to behave with my dad and Gordo's parents _right there._

I don't know. Maybe I was being paranoid. Was I the only one who noticed that Mom kept giving Gordo all these little smiles, and that he kept looking at her _boobs?_ Ugh! And was I the only one who realized that when Gordo went into the kitchen for more soda, offering to refresh the drink of anyone else who needed it, that he knew exactly how my mom liked her Sangria, with a shot of club soda on top, and a slice of orange and lemon, but not a slice of lime? How did he know this? _Oh, God! Had they been_ _drinking together before tonight?_ I was freaking out.

And then the rum started to kick in, and I didn't feel as freaked out as before. We all sat down to eat, and I was ravenously hungry, and I actually began to feel pretty good. We were all pretty loosened up by now, and as we ate we began to talk more and more, remembering all kinds of things that had happened when we were kids, telling all kinds of stories, and laughing an awful lot.

The evening actually turned out to be quite a bit of fun, considering how it had started out. I'm not saying I forgave Gordo for what he had done to me in tenth grade, but at the moment it just didn't seem to matter so much. And as I looked at him across the table, through a haze of rum, I couldn't help noting again how really cute he looked now that he was all growed-up…

It got pretty late. It was dark outside, and we were still sitting around the table, all laughing, but not as hysterically as before. Most of the food was gone, and any that was left on the table would probably have to be thrown out. The alcohol had pretty much worn off by this time, but the party spirit had not, at least not for most of us. Mom offered to make coffee, but Roberta Gordon said, "Forget coffee! Let's go dancing!"

Apparently the Gordons had taken some dance lessons at the community center, and they thought this would be a fabulous opportunity to show off what they had learned. The Sanchez's were in full agreement with this plan.

Mom was into it too, but Dad, though polite, was clearly reluctant. He never was much of a dancer, I knew. Was that the real reason, though? Or was it, as he finally said, because he had an early meeting in the morning?

"A meeting in the morning?" Howard Gordon asked. "What kind of meeting takes place on a Sunday morning?"

"A golf date with an important client," Dad explained.

"All the more reason to go!" Howard reasoned. "If you stay out late tonight, your golf game tomorrow will be impaired, the client will win, and you'll get the account!"

The other adults there tried to convince him, but it soon became apparent he was not going, no way, no how. I could see my mom getting annoyed, biting her lip, holding her tongue. She really wanted to go dancing, I could tell. Oh God! I just hoped she wouldn't get the idea to take Gordo as her dance partner instead!

The gentle persuasions went on for as long as was socially acceptable, then at last Mom broke the tension by saying, "Well, you can see he's not going to budge. But don't let us hold you back. Please! Go out and have a good time!"

"You don't mind, Jo?"

"Of course not!" she lied enthusiastically. "Go ahead! We'll get a chance to do it again sometime. When Sam is more _available. _ You give a call next time you go, and I'll see if I can't convince this old stick-in-the-mud to come out and have a little fun." She said this as if it was a big joke, but I could tell that underneath she was about to crack with resentment.

The Gordons and the Sanchez's took a while to actually make it out the front door, and as soon as they did, I felt the tension in the house rise dramatically. Miranda and Gordo were nearby, and I knew they could feel it too.

Miranda said, "Should we go upstairs?" but Gordo said quietly, "We should help clean up first." I know he was thinking about my mom. It wouldn't really be right to leave her with all the cleanup, so we three began to quietly clear the table.

And as we did, my parents, who were also clearing the table, began a reserved, civil conversation about dancing, and golf, and work responsibilities, and social responsibilities, and when was the last time they had been out dancing, anyway? Dad said "You know I don't like to dance."

Mom said, "Well, Sam. What do you like to do?"

He thought for a moment, then said, "I like to bowl."

"You know I don't like to bowl," Mom said. "The damn ball is too heavy."

"Well, I like golf," Dad said.

"Only because your clients like golf!" Mom retorted. "You never liked golf before you took this stupid job!"

"Hey!" Dad said, defensively. "This stupid job put this food on the table!"

And now they were at it, having come to the crux of the matter. The stupid job, that was more important than anything else in the world. The reason why he was never home anymore. Why he barely knew his kids any more. And why they had only had sex three times in the last six months.

I covered my face with my hands. _Oh man! How embarrassing_. Miranda, Gordo and I had stopped clearing and were standing around stupidly in the dining room, listening to all this. Miranda's eyes were bugging out of her head, but Gordo looked completely agitated, ready to leap to my mom's defense. That probably wouldn't be necessary, because she could hold her own pretty good in a fight. But Gordo was ready to fight my dad, if need be. I could hear him breathing, even over all the yelling and screaming that was going on in the kitchen.

I don't really remember what else was said after the sex comment. My mind just instinctively blocked out any further details, I guess. But I do know it got worse and worse until finally they were both screaming "Fuck you!" which I don't think I had ever heard either of my parents say before, and then Dad stormed out the front door and Mom ran through the open patio doors on to the back porch.

Miranda looked at me. "Lizzie…" she said uncomfortably.

"Let's go to my room," I said.

Miranda and I bounded up the stairs. Gordo did not follow. I didn't expect him to follow. I knew where he would go, and he was probably there before Miranda and I even reached the upstairs landing.

-

It was so good to have Miranda here at a time like this. I had other friends, new friends, but nobody I could talk to the way I had always talked to her. She knew my family. She knew how serious this was. She wouldn't just blow it off with "Yeah, well, parents are like that sometimes." I told her everything about how tense it had been in our house since Dad took that new job. She said it sounded like he was going through a mid-life crisis.

I said, "Yeah, well, Mom's going through her own little midlife crisis, too."

Suddenly Miranda looked around the room and said, "Hey! Where's Gordo?"

"Exactly," I sighed heavily. "He's her mid-life crisis."

It took a while for me to explain this to her, and even when I thought she understood, she still seemed incredulous.

"Are you telling me that Gordo and your mom are _going out together_?"

"No," I said impatiently. "I said they were hanging out together."

"And what's the difference?" Miranda questioned.

"I'm not really sure," I said, lying back on the bed, still feeling the remnants of rum in my body. "I think the difference is that they're always here at the house, they don't go out in public together. Thank God they don't go out in public together! Could you imagine how embarrassing that would be?"

"But, Lizzie," Miranda reasoned. "If your dad is never home, and Gordo's always here, and there's nobody to keep an eye on them, how do you know they're not…?"

"ICK!" I exclaimed. "Miranda! How can you even say something like that?"

"Well, you're thinking it, aren't you? I'm just saying what you're already thinking."

"I'm not thinking it!" I insisted.

"Then you wouldn't be afraid to go downstairs and check up on your mom? You should really go check up on her," Miranda said.

"She doesn't need me," I sighed. "She has Gordo now."

"That's right," Miranda said. "She has Gordo. He can take care of her. You know she's in good hands. You don't need to check up on her. She's in good hands."

For some stupid reason I couldn't stop myself from suddenly remembering where Gordo's hands had been that day when the ocean dipped, momentarily revealing a below-the-waist view of him and Parker McKenzie. Later on everybody told me I was crazy, I was imagining things, I hadn't seen what I thought I had seen. But I know what I had seen. I could never get that image out of my head, and it was coming back to haunt me at this very moment.

I sprung up on my bed. "I should go down and check on her," I said.

"You should go check on her before your dad gets back," Miranda suggested.

I nodded. "Do you want to come with me?" I asked hopefully.

"Oh no," Miranda said, shaking her head. "I'll let you handle this one all by yourself." I might have said I was not afraid to go check on my mom, but Miranda clearly was.

I clearly was too, I just didn't want to admit it to Miranda.

-

I took the stairs slowly, but trying to make as much noise as possible, to let them know I was coming, so they would have time to stop whatever they were doing before I turned the corner.

"Mom!" I called, walking through the foyer into the kitchen. I looked around and saw no one. "Mom…?"

The house was quiet, empty. The patio doors were still open. I walked towards them, slowly, peeking over the top of the furniture, squinting my eyes, as if at a horror movie, ready to turn away should I see anything too disturbing.

But what I saw was no exactly disturbing. I mean it was, in a way, but not in the way I thought it might be. What I saw was actually very…sweet. At least it would have been sweet, if it were anybody else other than my mom and Gordo.

They were sitting on the edge of the deck outside, and he had his arm around her back, and he had his face leaning into her ear, clearly whispering words of comfort as he gently rocked her side to side. I saw her nodding, as if what he was whispering was getting through to her, as if it made more sense than anything else she had ever heard.

I stood in the middle of the living room and watched them for an endless moment, unexpectantly touched by Gordo's tenderness. That tenderness had been mine, once upon a time. This was so stupid! Suddenly I was jealous! _Of my mom!_

Then I saw them both stand up, and Gordo wrapped his arms around her, and she wrapped her arms around him, and they were both swaying, and I understood at once that they were dancing, that he was giving her the dance my dad would not. There was no music, but that didn't matter. They continued dancing in the dark, quiet backyard for longer than I could bear to stand there and watch them.

Numb, shocked, I walked back towards the stairs. I couldn't find the strength in my legs, though, to begin to climb back up to my room, where I would have to give Miranda some kind of account of what was going on. I didn't know how in the world I could possibly talk about what I had just seen. I sat down on the bottom step, all jumbled inside. Mom and Dad fighting….Mom and Gordo dancing….and me, a jumbled mess of emotions, including _jealousy…_

I put my hands over my face, just about ready to cry. I wanted Dad to come home. I wanted him to go apologize to Mom right away, and say something that would make her feel better, even if he had to say he was quitting that stupid job. Then I wanted Gordo to leave, and Mom and Dad to go upstairs and shut themselves in their room and not come out till morning or for days or for however long it would take them to catch up on everything that had been lost between them.

And on top of all that, I wanted to go back in time to before that day at the beach, before Gordo had cheated on me with Parker McKenzie, so that maybe somehow we could get through that day again and this time do it right. Gordo and my mom? How did that happen, wasn't it always supposed to be me and Gordo? How did the whole universe get so out of whack…?

Suddenly I heard noises in the house and I froze, listening.

"It's okay, David," I heard my mom say in a conspiratorial whisper. "I'm going to be fine now. In the meantime, I think it's best you leave before Sam comes back."

"I don't want to leave you, Jo. Not until I'm sure you're going to be alright," he said.

"I'm alright," she assured.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Stop worrying!"

"Jo…"

"David, please. I'm okay. I'm fine. Thanks to you, I'm sure I'm going to be okay."

"I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Yes, yes. I'll see you tomorrow."

If she walked him to the door they would see me there and it would be very awkward. As it was, though, Mom did not come to the door. I saw Gordo pass by quickly and let himself out the front door, never even noticing I was there on the step behind him.

I made an instantaneous decision to follow him outside. I wasn't sure why or what I was going to say, but in a moment I was in the dark clammy heat of the August night, watching Gordo go down the front path of my house, and I heard myself say, "Hey, Gordon! Hold on."

He turned and looked at me in surprise. "Lizzie…"

I looked at him for quite a long time, wondering what I would say. Part of me wanted to say that stuff about going back to that day at the beach and regaining what had been lost, but the moment I began to think about that day, I felt the anger and resentment bubbling up inside me and I knew the opportunity to talk decently with him had just evaporated.

Besides, this moment was not about me, at least it shouldn't be. It was about my Mom and Dad, and I suddenly heard myself demanding, with more vehemence than I actually intended, "What the hell do you think you're doing with my mom?"

He gave me one of those looks with his eyebrows, clearly as annoyed with me as I was with him. "I'm doing what you all should be doing with her," he said. "What her family should be doing with her. Listening to her, helping her, appreciating her. You know, Lizzie, since I've come back to this house, I've been appalled by the way you all treat her, how you ignore her and take her for granted. Matt's a punk, and, hate to say it, Liz, but you can really be one self-centered whiny bitch---"

"Gordo!"

"And your dad's the worst of all. And I'm telling you, unless something changes, he's going to lose her."

"Why would you say that?" I asked in alarm. "She's not planning anything, is she? I mean, she wouldn't be thinking of…"

"Divorce?" Gordo said. "No. She hasn't used that word yet. But it's not far off, I'm sure, unless something changes. You should talk to your dad. Somebody needs to talk to him. Somebody needs to knock some sense into him."

I stood frozen to the spot. The "D" word had paralyzed me. At last I was able to tap my foot to keep my blood flowing, and I spit out, "Gordo, I don't want you coming around here any more."

Gordo gave me his cynical laugh, which I knew so well. "And why not?" he asked. "I'm the only friend she has at the moment, the only person she feels truly comfortable with. Why would you want to take that away from her?"

"My mother is a very lonely woman right now---"

"Precisely!" he agreed.

"Very lonely and very unhappy---"

"I'm agreeing with you!" he exclaimed in frustration. "That's why I don't understand why you would want to---"

"Because I don't trust you!" I spit out. "I can't trust you! I'm afraid you're going to…to…."

I couldn't say it. But I didn't need to say it. I saw Gordo's face fill with utter contempt as he read my mind and shot back at me, "You're warped, Lizzie McGuire. Do you know that?"

"I know what I see, Gordon," I said bitterly. "The eyes do not deceive."

"Your eyes _do_ deceive," he said. "Nothing like that is happening. Nothing like that is going to happen."

He shook his head at me and I saw that look on his face which I knew meant he had reached the end of his tolerance, I had completely disgusted him and he was done talking to me.

He turned around and headed back down the path, his shoulders hunched.


	7. Chapter 7: Jo

_This is so funny, because as I was writing this chapter, I got a review alert from Jennifer 10 who said, "All I ask is that you pretty please recreate the infamous 'Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?' moment." It's been years since I've seen the movie, and I don't remember the moment so well, but I do remember the line, and even though I wasn't planning to use it, your suggestion was just too good and too obvious, so I threw it in, and I hope it works. Thanks!_

_By the way, Jennifer, your comment that you "so did not wanna love this story" absolutely made my day! All along my goal in writing this story for other people to read has been that even though I understand that some people may not like it or agree with it, all I really want is for the reader to BELIEVE that it could happen, within the context of the storyline. But if you do in fact like it, or better yet love__it, that's icing on the cake! So thanks again_!

-

I can't believe I let Sam get to me like that. I can't believe I let him aggravate me so much that I was drawn into a violent verbal clash with him right in front of Lizzie and her friends. I could probably count on one hand the number of times that had happened in our twenty years of marriage, and this was the second time it had happened in the last six months.

We were on a steady downward spiral.

_Fuck you?_ Had I really screamed "_Fuck you"_? And in front of the kids! All I can say is thank God Matt was not there that night.

After the anger came tears, which David helped me through, and after that came the numbness, which was what I felt when Sam finally came back in that night. I was lying in bed when I heard the door open, and felt him in the room. I pretended to be asleep, but of course he knew I was not.

"Jo," he said, in what sounded like a well-rehearsed speech. "I am not going to get into this with you all over again, but I am going to say that everything I'm doing is because I love you, and I love the kids, and I'm sorry if you don't see it that way, but a man has to work, a man has to support his family. I've got to do what I've got to do. And I'd like it if you would support me in that, but even if you don't, I've still got to do what I've got to do."

There were a dozen things I could have said in reply, but I also did not wish to start up the argument all over again. I was so tired, and all I wanted at this moment was to get some sleep. I calmed myself with the memory of how wonderful it had felt to be in David's arms, gently swaying back and forth, slow dancing to a quiet tune he was humming in my ear. I felt Sam lay down in bed beside me, sighing heavily. I would deal with him in the morning, when I felt strong and fresh. Right now, the memory of David was all I needed to get through this night.

David…

He was my rock, he was incredible. There were so many times when I completely forgot that he was Lizzie's age, had once been Lizzie's friend. He was so mature and helpful, so insightful. Did it come from having two parents who were psychiatrists, or was it just him? Naturally smart and sensitive? And how had I been so lucky to get him into my life right now, when I needed him most? He was my angel.

But my angel was leaving for college in a couple of weeks now. I couldn't even bear to think of it. How was I going to get along without him? I had come to depend on him entirely too much.

David kept trying to persuade me to get back to talking with my friends, but I had been ignoring them all for so long it was difficult to know how to start up again without feeling incredibly awkward. After the night of the party and the big fight, I didn't have the emotional strength to get through "awkward." I only wanted what was familiar and comfortable, and at the moment, only David felt that way to me.

So I kept picking him up from work, and he kept coming over the house for ice cream and anything else I would serve him, and then we would watch movies. He introduced me to so many wonderful movies that summer. We would watch, and sometimes we would drink a little wine. And then we would talk. Sometimes till very late in the night, sometimes till two or three in the morning, long after everyone else had gone to sleep. David told his parents he was at Lizzie's house, and they were happy with that explanation. Each time he left I gave him a little kiss on the cheek at the front door.

At this point that was the extent of it. There was nothing more going on, honestly, though I could tell by Lizzie's attitude that she thought there was. Not that it would have been any of her business, anyway. She had had her chance with David, and she had made choices she now had to live with. We were all adults here, and as far as I was concerned, my relationship with David was entirely my own business.

Sam, by the way, was clueless. Either he was clueless, or he simply was too busy to care.

So nothing was happening between us at this point. Well…there was that one night, of course, when I gave him a backrub. That was an interesting experience.

David was so tense sometimes, especially in the shoulders. We had been drinking a little wine during the movie, and yet he was still feeling antsy, so he went to sit on the floor in front of me. Once again, I could not resist the curls, so I positioned myself above him on the couch and asked if he wouldn't mind…

"Mind what?" he asked.

In answer, I ran my hands through his hair.

"Jesus!" he cried, tensing up, throwing his hands in the air. "What are you doing, Jo?"

"I'm just playing with your hair. It's so beautiful. You don't mind, do you? Let an old lady have her thrill," I teased.

"First," he said, "you're not an old lady," which was what he said every time I described myself that way (and to tell the truth, I think I only said it because I wanted to hear his reply). "And second, what the heck is so thrilling about my hair?"

"You really don't know, do you?" I asked. "You really have no idea how attractive you are?"

"Stop it!" he said. "You're embarrassing me."

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about," I replied. "You're a sweetheart of a guy, Davey, and so attractive, and someday you're going to make some lucky girl extremely happy. And when that happens, I guarantee you she'll want to play with your hair, just like I am now…"

Having said this, I felt compelled to continue playing with his hair, yet as I did I noticed his shoulders growing more and more tense.

Finally, I said, "Drop your head" and he said "Why?" almost in a worried tone, and I said, "Because I need to get at your neck and start loosening it up for you."

"I don't need my neck 'loosened up,'" he laughed.

"If you really believe that, buddy, then I'm certain that you have no idea what you really need."

"But---"

"Don't argue with me," I grinned. "Drop your head and be quiet. And let yourself relax for once…okay?"

At last he did as he was told, and I was able to work away at a giant knot of tension right between his shoulders until finally I actually heard him moan.

I smiled. "Still think you don't need this?"

"I guess I am tense, a lot of the time," he finally admitted. "I think it comes from too many years of trying to excel at everything I do. I always have to be at the top of my game."

"Not everything is a game, David. Not everything is a competition. Sometimes it's okay just to let yourself go a little."

"There are only a few people I can do that with," David said. "But you're one of them, Jo."

"Well, I'm glad for that," I said, working my way down his shoulders.

There's really nothing more to tell about this. I gave him a good backrub, through the neck of his tee shirt, for a long time, and I could tell afterwards that he felt very relaxed, but nothing more came of it. I enjoyed helping him, touching him, but I didn't expect it to lead to anything else.

But the fact that I'm even thinking that it didn't lead to anything else has got to indicate that the idea of there being "something else" was lurking just around the corner. There was a certain energy slowly building up between us, and I think we both knew it, even at this point.

If I had to guess, I would say it probably kicked into high gear the night of the big thunderstorm.

-

It was the last Thursday in August. David would be buying his car this weekend, and leaving for college on Tuesday. I had so little time left with him, but I tried not to think about that. We had a fun evening planned, Chinese takeout and _A Knight's Tale,_ which I had never seen but David assured me was highly entertaining. So far he hadn't steered me wrong, and his brief description of a romantic story about a servant disguising himself as a knight in order to win the tournament _and_ the princess sounded like just the thing to get my mind off my troubles.

My troubles being that Sam and I were barely speaking at this point. And also that I was about to lose my very best friend.

At the moment, though, I could not think about my troubles, or anything else except the rain that was pouring down in buckets. I went out early to pick up David at the store, anticipating the weather might slow down my drive. I had circled the parking lot three times when I saw him come out the front doors. There was an overhang, so if I pulled up as close as possible to the curb, I could probably keep him from getting absolutely drenched.

I saw him in his khaki pants and red Circuit City shirt, and he saw me and waved, and began to walk towards the curb. As he did, however, another SUV in front of me suddenly spun out its wheels, tearing through a puddle, which sprayed a muddy mess of water up into the air…and directly on to David!

I saw this happen. I gasped. Poor David! I pulled up beside him and lowered the window. Through the pounding rain, and just as a streak of lightning illuminated the depth of the damage, I exclaimed, "Oh my God, David! Oh my God!"

He was pushing mud off the front of his shirt. He was shaking out his hair, sending dirty drops of water flying in every direction. He looked up at me, an expression of shock and dismay filling his face.

"Oh my God!" I said again, and then for some reason, I began to laugh.

I know it wasn't very nice. I guess it was one of those times when if you don't laugh you're going to cry. So I laughed. And I laughed. And in a moment I saw that David was laughing with me.

"Oh…crap!" he exclaimed, wiping his dirty hands on his dirty pants. "How am I going to get into the car now?"

"Don't worry about that!" I said. "I've got Scotchguard protection. It will clean up easy enough. As will your face."

He grimaced. Yes, there was mud and rainwater all over his face. He took his fingers to his cheeks, then saw that he had pulled off a good deal of dirt.

"Get in!" I called. "We'll clean you up at home!"

"Wait!" he said, and suddenly he pulled his shirt up over his head, turning it inside out, and using the clean side as a towel to wipe down his face and hair.

It was a smart thing to do, because it really took away the worst of the mess. It was a bad thing to do, however, because for the first time since he had been a little boy, I was looking at his chest, and the shock of how manly he looked just about pushed me into another dimension.

In case you haven't noticed already, I have this thing about hair. On a man. And by the way, not just the hair on his head. This may sound a little weird, but I get really turned on by chest hair. Okay, maybe more information than you need to know. But you need to know this to understand why for the next several moments I sat there transfixed by the image of David, bare-chested and beautiful, rubbing his head with his inside out shirt.

He _was _beautiful. There is no other word for it. Unless you want to use the word "sexy." But I didn't want to use that word. I was only subconsciously aware at this point that for some time now I had been trying to avoid the word "sexy" while thinking about David.

Yet, when he finally ran to the car and got in, I couldn't help myself.

First, he caught his breath and said, "That was _so_ not funny, Jo!"

Oh my gosh, you're right!" I agreed. "That was not funny! But it was also hilarious. Come on, David! You know in a few days you're going to be telling this story and laughing your head off."

"In a few _years_, maybe. Right now, I just want to get cleaned up. Look what I'm doing to your car! I'm wet and I'm dirty, and I'm so sorry---"

"Stop it!" I insisted. "I don't care about the car. I only care about you. Are you okay?"

He took a deep breath, and I saw his chest heave up, and then down. "Yeah, I'm alright."

"David, look at you!"

"I know," he sighed. "I'm a mess."

"Not that!" I insisted. "Look at your chest!"

He did, clearly not knowing what I was talking about.

"You've got hair on your chest!" I exclaimed. "You're a man!"

Now he was embarrassed. He pulled the crumpled up shirt in his lap higher against his body, suddenly conscious of his partial nakedness.

"You're a man," I repeated. "You've got hair. And look how nice it is. Not too much, just right, and in just the right places…"

And then I did what I never could resist doing. I reached out to touch his hair. Only this time I didn't even ask first "Do you mind…?" My hand just instinctively flew to his chest, needing to know what this pretty patch of chest hair must feel like.

Immediately he drew in a sharp breath, stunned by my forwardness.

"Jo…"

"Oh, indulge me," I said playfully. "Let an old lady have her thrill."

So I stroked his chest, enjoying the sensation of his skin and his hair against the palm of my hand. This was so much fun! And then, after a few moments, I realized I was beginning to flirt with the idea of brushing my fingertips across his nipples. I so wanted to do that, but I suddenly came to my senses when I also realized several other things, all at the same time.

One: he had not offered his customary "You're not an old lady" reassurance. In fact, he had not spoken at all, unless you counted a small "mmm…." I thought I'd heard him utter.

Two: he had moved the bunched up shirt which he clutched in his hands back down into his lap---probably not because he wanted to give me more room to work, but rather because there was something in his lap he felt compelled to hide.

And three: though he had been breathing quite heavily, his chest moving up and down, now suddenly he stopped breathing altogether.

I stopped too, and asked, "David, are you okay?"

I saw him close his eyes and wince. In a small, cracking voice, he asked, "Are you done yet?"

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I apologized profusely, removing my hand from his body. "I'm so sorry, David. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

He laughed shortly. "Uh…a little."

I put my hand back on the steering wheel. "I'm sorry" I repeated.

I looked at him sitting there, his eyes closed, his chest heaving, biting his lower lip. Something was happening here. I started to feel uncomfortable as well.

I put the car back out on the road, momentarily lost in my own thoughts. _What had I been thinking? _ True, it had been over twenty years since I had flirted so heavily with a man who was not my husband, and that man had in fact become my husband. But had I really forgotten how powerful a simple touch could be? Nowadays it took a lot more than a rub on the chest to get Sam aroused. I thought of the old joke: How to impress a man? Show up naked and bring beer. Lately even that wasn't working with Sam. But David was so young, so inexperienced, so sensitive even to my slightest touch…

I looked at him again across the dark front seat. He was silent, still clutching the dirty shirt in his lap, still catching his breath.

_I had been so unfair!_

"I'm sorry," I said again quietly.

He offered a weak smile. "It's okay."

"Do you want to talk about this?" I dared to wonder.

"No," he said strongly, and without hesitation. Then, "I'm just thinking maybe….maybe it would be a good idea if you took me home first---"

"Oh no!" I cried. Now I was truly sorry. I had scared him away! "Oh, David!"

"I really need to take a shower," he said.

"But I thought we were going to watch the movie…"

"We are," he said. "But I really need to take a shower first. I'll come back afterwards."

I smiled, now warm and happy again. I hadn't scared him away after all!

"Listen," I said. "If you shower at home, you're only going to have to walk back through the rain and get wet all over again. Why don't you take a shower at my house? I can give you some of Sam's old clothes to wear."

"He won't mind?"

"He won't know."

David thought this through. Finally he said, "Will they fit?" Sam was bigger than him to start off with, and had put on some extra weight these last few years.

"He has some sweatpants with a drawstring waist. And a tee shirt will be no problem."

As I said this I looked across the front seat again, trying to imagine him in Sam's shirt. This time I had an excuse for looking at his chest, but I realized that in the last few moments, every time I glanced in his direction I had not been able to keep my eyes from dropping down. For the first time I truly appreciated how difficult it must be for him, all those times I had caught him sneaking involuntary glances at my chest. I couldn't fault him now any more than I could fault myself.

"Okay," he said about wearing Sam's clothes. "That makes sense."

I gave him one more sideways glance, then smiled, determined to keep my eyes on the road.

-

Due to the rain, I parked the car in the garage and we came in through the side door. The house was quiet, nobody was home. Nobody was ever home these days. Matt would be spending the night at Chubb's, and Lizzie was out with Josh. Sam, of course was roaming around the state, selling plastic do-hingys.

I led David into the foyer, saying "Come upstairs. I'm going to put you in my bathroom. Lizzie called before I left to pick you up, looking for her wallet. She'll be stopping back home to get it, and if she should want to use her bathroom and finds you in it, she'll totally flip out."

We were in my bedroom by this time, and I was searching through the dresser drawers. I found the drawstring sweatpants and threw them on the bed. I also found one of Sam's older, smaller tee shirts in the bottom of a bottom drawer. It was bright blue and read "Tee-Ball Tigers!" on the front and "Coach" on the back. I had to smile, remembering.

David remembered too. He had also been on that team. Now as he looked at the shirt I held out before him, he also smiled, but sadly, and said, "It's not like it used to be. Lizzie doesn't like me very much these days, does she?"

"Lizzie has issues," I said, shortly. "Sometimes I'm not sure if she really knows what she likes anymore."

I looked at him, standing there in my bedroom with his hairy chest only half covered by the bunched up dirty tee shirt, and I sensed an uneasiness about him. It occurred to me that it was quiet possible David had never been in this room before.

"The bathroom is through here," I instructed, opening the door. "Towels are in the closet. I'm sure you'll find them. Feel free to use any of the products you find in the shower."

It was time for me to leave. It was beginning to feel a little too weird being here with him like this. I walked towards the door, saying, "I'll order the food, David, and I'm sure you'll be downstairs before it even arrives."

"What about this shirt?" he asked. "And my pants? Do you have a plastic bag or something I can put them in? I don't want to leave them laying around and getting your nice room all dirty."

I walked up to him and put my hands on the dirty shirt in his hands. For a moment he looked woundedt, as if I was trying to steal his security blanket. I really didn't want to make him feel any more uncomfortable, but standing in front of him, so close to him, I could not help but look at his chest yet again, and them up into his crystal clear blue eyes.

To avoid my eyes, I saw him glance away….and where do you think he looked? Where else? He brought his eyes up from my chest and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry…"

"I'll take that shirt," I said, prying it from his hands. "And while we're at it, let me have your pants also."

David stared at me in disbelief. For a moment he was speechless, but then I could almost see his lightning fast brain kick into overdrive, and he softened the moment with a stab at humor.

"Mrs. Robinson," he grinned, his face flushed, "are you trying to seduce me?"

I had to laugh. What else could I do? He was so adorable. "No, David," I said. "I'm trying to do your laundry!"

We both laughed, and at last he gave up the shirt.

"Now pass the pants to me through the door," I said, going into the hallway. I waited on the other side of the door until he opened it a crack and I saw only his hand, delivering the laundry.

I thought momentarily to ask about his socks and underwear, but I felt any conversation about underwear could too easily lead to more suggestive talk, more innuendos, and frankly I was beginning to feel like we had gone too far already.


	8. Chapter 8: David

_We're getting ready to get hit with a little hurricane down here in sunny FL, so I thought before that happens and maybe I lose power for a few days, I should post another chapter.  
_

_By the way, if anyone's wondering, this story should go on for about 14 or 15 chapters, so we're more than halfway through, but lots of good stuff coming up! Lots of drama!  
_

_WARNING: Explicit! If you are easily offended, you might want to skip this chapter and suffice it to say that Gordo comes to a full realization of how sexually attracted he is to Jo. If you are not offended by the realities of the human experience, then read on._

_-_

So here I was now, in Jo's bedroom, in my underwear.

This was turning out to be a pretty wild night, a night of firsts. I had never been in her bedroom before that I could remember. I had never been "felt up" by somebody's mother. Also, I had never imagined that I could feel the way I was feeling at this moment.

This wasn't supposed to be happening, but something was happening, and it was a little scary. I'd spent the last several weeks getting to know this great lady, making her more than a friend's mother, making her my own friend. And I treasured that friendship, especially now at this transitional time in my life. But I never meant for it to go beyond friendship. That was the last thing I was looking for at this point.

But it was starting to feel like it could go there. And it was starting to feel like I wanted it to go there.

And I want to say right now, by the way, that I am not a _pig._ This was not just about her boobs, though they were fabulous. It's true that I couldn't stop looking at them. I admit it. Each night, when she gave me that little kiss on the cheek, standing by the front door, I noticed more and more each time that I waited expectantly to see if she would pull in close enough that I could feel her breasts pressing lightly against my chest.

Sometimes I could, sometimes I couldn't.

But even when I could, and I would get that tingly feeling inside, that didn't make me a pig, did it?

And then I started to wonder, as she pulled up close to kiss my cheek, what it would be like if I were to unexpectedly turn my head and let her lips catch my lips instead of my cheek….but that didn't make me a pig, either, did it?

I wasn't sure.

-

So here I was now, in Jo's bathroom, naked.

I had hung my socks and underwear over the towel bar and was looking at myself in the mirror. She liked my chest hair….I smiled. I looked down my body and thought _I've got other hair she would probably like just as much…_

_Man! _I was starting to feel like a pig.

Okay, I'd had some fantasies, but only in the last week or two, really only since that night when she and Sam fought so badly and I had to comfort her, and got to dance with her in the backyard. These fantasies had started out very tame, only that stuff about turning my head when she kissed me at the front door, but after that night she gave me the backrub, my imagination kind of kicked it up a notch.

I was having some more intense fantasies lately. But I wasn't a pig. I was just a guy who had this woman in his life who kept flirting with him and telling him how attractive and sweet he was, and how some lucky girl was going to be so very happy. So I don't see how there was anything so very wrong with fantasizing that somehow she could be that lucky girl.

I looked around the bathroom, noticing all her stuff. Her makeup, her hand cream, her hairbrush. I could tell it was her hairbrush and not Sam's, because the stray hairs stuck in the bristles were brilliant blonde, not dark. I picked up her hairbrush and ran it through my hair. I felt the tingle moving down my body, settling in its usual place.

There were hooks behind the door, and several bras were hanging from the hooks. Most were white, but one was black, and the red one was of such a thin lace it was practically see-thru. I touched the bras and the tingling sensation increased pleasantly.

I stepped into the shower and turned on the water, letting it get good and hot before I switched from the faucet to the showerhead. When I finally did, it felt good to have all that hot water running down my body, washing away the mud which was now caked onto my skin.

Jo had said to use any of the products I saw there, but I'm sure she didn't mean the pink loofah scrubbie, though I so much would have loved to run that thing, which every day touched her body, all over my own body.

No, I wasn't that much of a pig.

But I would use her shampoo and her body soap. I could tell it was her shampoo, because the bottle said it was for enhancing blonde highlights, and besides, the Head and Shoulders had to be for Sam. Sam had dandruff. I knew that, because Jo had told me.

There was some liquid soap in a pump bottle that smelled like almonds and honey. I knew that was Jo's, because I had smelled it on her before, usually when she reached up to kiss me in the foyer each night. I also knew this soap was hers and not Sam's because I saw Soap on a Rope hanging from the shower fixture. Sam McGuire was apparently a big Soap on a Rope fan, and Gammy McGuire gave him one every year at Christmas.

Damn, I knew a lot about Sam. Jo had told me all kinds of stories and secrets, knowing that I would never tell anyone else. Who was I going to tell? I knew about things that were more intimate matters than dandruff and Soap on a Rope, things I'm not going to mention here, because some of it is pretty personal But who really cares, anyway? Jo is the one who really cares about Sam, and I only cared because I knew it made her feel better to get some of these things off her chest.

I could probably write a book about Sam McGuire, with all the things she had told me, but I wasn't going to do that, because I didn't want to be thinking about him. I wanted to be thinking about her.

And I was thinking about her, as I lathered up my body with her honey and almond soap. I was thinking, _This soap touches her body. Now, this soap is touches my body. Therefore…_

Of course there was no logic in the way I was thinking, but I was beyond logic at this point. All I could think of as I ran my hands over my chest was how she has run her hands over my chest earlier that evening. And then I thought about how this soap was now the common element between my chest and her chest, between my chest and her breasts. I imagined myself lathering up not myself, but her, here in the shower with me, and then my soapy hands traveled downwards…

**-**

So here I was now, in Jo's shower, jerking off.

I was leaning against the tile wall, my left hand spread out to steady my arm on the wet surface, while I pressed my forehead into my forearm. My right hand was below, furiously working to relieve the pressure. This was going on for too long, too unbearably long, as the hot water pounded my shoulders. Oh God, I hope I'd locked the bathroom door. What if I hadn't? What if she were to come in? What if she were to come in and see me now…

And then, there it was, with a groan from the deepest part of me, the part I could only reach when I was doing this, blessed relief burst through the wall of sexual tension. The sudden flood carried away every remnant of frustration and anxiety. I felt my entire body melting under the steady stream of steaming hot water cascading down my body. My knees nearly buckled beneath me and I knew it was all over for me, it was official, I was a hopeless goner.

I had never imagined I could feel the way I was feeling at this moment.

-

When I finally got out of the shower and dried off and put on Sam's sweatpants, pulling the drawstring tight against my thin torso, only then did I begin to feel the guilt settling in. This was foolish. This could not go anywhere. This was _Lizzie's mother, _for crying out loud. I was insane! I must be insane.

These were the thoughts that tried to take hold of me, but they weren't having much success, because I was still in her bedroom, surrounded by her things, and as much as the voice of reason told me this had to stop, the voice of opportunity said this is your chance to look around, this is your chance to discover her most personal items, maybe find her underwear drawer, touch her panties…

Okay. I'm a pig.

And that's what I was doing, snooping around, compelled not by my usual sense of what was decent and proper, but by a sudden and overwhelming lust that after a few minutes had my incredibly resilient sex organ once again puffing itself up for another show stopping performance.

Only this time the show did stop before it got very far, because just as I found what I was looking for, just as I was dragging my fingertips along something pink and smooth and silky, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and Lizzie calling, "Mom! Mom! Where are you?"

-

I panicked.

If Lizzie was coming upstairs to look for her mother, she would obviously come into the bedroom. I couldn't remember whether or not I had locked the door, and now there was no time to check. There was only time to slam the drawer shut and lunge for the tee shirt on the bed. I wasn't going to allow Lizzie to find me in here half-naked.

I heard the knocking, and Lizzie right outside the door, saying, "Mom?"

I pulled the tee shirt over my head, and it was while my face was covered that I heard the click of the doorknob being turned. The shirt was all bunched up around my shoulders, and I was struggling to pull it down over my chest and down over my head at the same time. Which is probably why I was succeeding at neither.

The moment my head popped out of the neckbank, I saw that Lizzie was in the now open doorway, staring at me, her mouth hanging open in shock.

"Your mom is not here," I said instantly. I could hear the guilt in my own voice, as I pulled the shirt down to cover my chest.

Lizzie was looking at my chest. She was looking at my face. Most of all she was looking at my pants, where among the baggy layers of soft material, it was obvious that I was in an excited state.

"Ehhh!" Lizzie exclaimed, which is not really a word, but the best she could get out under the circumstances.

"It was raining," I explained nervously, sitting down on the edge of the bed, putting my hands in my lap, trying to appear nonchalant. "I got splashed with mud, your mom told me to come up here to take a shower. She's not here. She's downstairs. Did you check downstairs? You'll find her downstairs. Not up here."

"Ehhh!" Lizzie repeated, still staring at me stupidly.

"Lizzie---"

"Aaaahhh!" she screamed, changing her utterance a bit. "Don't even talk to me! Don't even look at me! Aaaahhh!"

With that she ran from the room, bounding back down the stairs.

I fell back on the bed, looking at the ceiling, thinking _Oh, crap…oh, crap…oh, crap…_


	9. Chapter 9: Jo

_First, many thanks for all the well wishes I got in regard to the hurricane. _

_Second, thanks for the continued comments and support on this story! I'm surprised I haven't gotten any flames. I guess if I have, they are "flames of silence'!_

_Onward now, from Jo's POV:_

_-_

"Mom," Lizzie said evenly. "Gordo is in your bedroom."

"I know," I said, coming back in from the garage, where I had just put a load of clothes in the washing machine.

"He's in your bedroom," she repeated meaningfully. "And he's wearing Dad's clothes."

I went to the cabinet and pulled down two wine glasses. "I know," I said. "I gave them to him. He got splattered with mud, and he was such a mess. Oh, Lizzie! You should have seen! It was so funny---"

"Mom!" Lizzie said forcefully. "He's in your room. He's wearing Dad's clothes. And he's got---he's got…a hard on!"

I looked up at Lizzie. She was obviously mortified. I was not, though. I found this information amusing. I felt the hint of a smile beginning to try to creep on to my face. For Lizzie's sake, I held it back.

"Oh, Lizzie," I said breezily. "That happens to guys sometimes. You know that. It doesn't necessarily mean anything."

"And it doesn't necessarily _not_ mean anything," she pointed out. "It could mean something very serious!" I could hear the frustration growing in her voice. She watched me pouring two glasses of wine, and I could tell by the look in her eye that she was going to say something more.

Here it was.

"Mom," she began. "I don't like what's happening with you and Gordo. I don't like him hanging around you so much. It isn't right. It looks bad. It _is_ bad. You shouldn't have anything to do with him. And you definitely should not be drinking with him by the way! He's still underage, you know. And you don't know what kind of person he is. With girls, I mean. He's not very nice sometimes, he's not very fair. You can't trust him. He'll weasel his way into your heart, and then break it from the inside out. He did it to me. I just had no idea he would sink so low as to go after my _mother_…"

"Whoa!" I called, holding up my hand. "Hold on one minute, young lady. There are so many things I can say to all that, I don't even know where to begin. First of all, David is mature enough to handle a little glass of wine, and he's not driving, so I don't see what's wrong with it. But more importantly, you are so wrong about him breaking hearts. He would never do that intentionally. For your information, his heart was also broken when you refused to talk with him or even see him any more after that day at the beach.

"Yes, I know all about it. He told me all about it. And by the way, don't you remember his coming over that night, banging on your door, trying to see you, trying to explain and apologize? You were just as unfair to him as he was to you, maybe moreso.

"You made a mistake, Lizzie. You let him go. You lost his love, and you lost his friendship, and as far as I'm concerned, there's been no greater loss in your life, no greater tragedy. David was good for you, honey. He was so good for you…don't you remember? Don't you miss that?"

Lizzie was biting her lip. She folded her arms across her chest. "Mom…"

"I…I don't know," I said. "It might be too late for you to get that back. But if there's any chance, you should try to get that back. At least the friendship. Because he's such a sweetheart, and I think deep down he still cares for you, I think he's still hurting, because you obviously won't forgive him for what happened that summer."

"Mom, stop it," Lizzie said firmly.

I could tell she did not want to hear any of this. I figured I had given her enough to think about, but I had one more thing I had to say.

"And as for me and David," I informed my daughter, "you may not like it, and I'm sorry you feel that way, but I'm telling you that nothing is going on that you think is going on. Dad and I may be having some problems, but I'm not cheating on him, not with David or anyone else. And even if I was---"

I didn't get to finish my thought, because we suddenly heard a loud blaring horn honking from the driveway.

"That's Josh," Lizzie said. "I've got to go."

She turned to leave, and as she did, she bumped directly into David, who had just appeared in the room. Lizzie shrieked in surprise and David said "Sorry…"

They looked at each other uneasily. So much tension between these two who had formerly been so close! It was sad to see.

"Well," Lizzie said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "You two have a nice evening, all right?"

Obviously she hadn't heard or didn't want to believe anything I had just told her.

"You know," David said. "Maybe I should just go…"

"Don't you dare!" I cried. "Don't you let her chase you away."

"Oh, don't worry," Lizzie said. " I'm out of here. I won't be in your way to stop you from anything you want to do."

"_Lizzie!" _ I screamed.

"I'm telling you, Mom. Be careful," Lizzie warned, and then she was gone, slamming the front door behind her.

The slam reverberated through the now quiet house. I had my hand over my forehead, and I heard David say again, "Jo…maybe….I should go…"

I looked up at him. "Don't you dare," I said again, but more quietly than before. "Don't you let her scare you away."

"But I'm causing so much friction between you and Lizzie---"

"Listen, David, there was friction between me and Lizzie before you came along, and there will be friction between us when you're gone. Most of the time we're okay, but there are moments, and we have to deal with them. This is our issue, and really has nothing to do with you. I am not going to let her chase you away."

He looked at me across the room, and I could tell there was something different about him. Had Lizzie really upset him that much? He seemed tense, uneasy…maybe even guilty? I walked over, took his hand, and led him to the couch. He didn't resist.

"You're going to stay," I said. "You're going to sit down and have a glass of wine, and some Chinese food, and watch this movie with me. We're going to forget about everything else. We're going to put the world on pause. For just a little while, okay? Would you do this for me, David? I really feel like I need to forget about everything else, for just a little while. Okay?"

He was sitting, he was nodding. I brought over the glasses of wine, and I saw his eyes following me intently. His eyes were so blue against the bright blue of the tee shirt he was wearing, but there was something else I was seeing in them, that had nothing to do with the clothes he was wearing. Subconsciously I knew that something was happening between us. But after just self-righteously proclaiming to my daughter that I was not cheating on her father, that was also on the list of things I didn't want to deal with at this moment.

David took his wineglass and I held mine, and I said, "How about a toast?"

He nodded. "How about toasting…the Pause Button?"

"I like it!" I smiled. "Yes, I'll certainly drink to that! To the Pause Button!"

And so that evening we put our lives on pause for two blessed hours as we drank the wine and ate the Chinese food that arrived moments after our toast, and watched this incredible movie. Not once during that time did I think about anything that was troubling me. It was enough to be here with David at this moment, with no interruptions.

He didn't know, but when I got up briefly to move the laundry (and here we actually did use the pause button) I took the phone off the hook to be sure nobody would bother us. Sam might call, and I did not want to ruin this moment by talking to Sam.

When I got back to the couch, I took a throw pillow and leaned it against David's leg, as I sometimes did, and lay down next to him.

"You're not going to go to sleep now?" he teased.

"No, of course not. I'm just getting comfortable."

After that, from time to time I felt his hand pushing back my hair, as he checked, "Still awake?"

"Uh hu," I smiled up at him.

I made it through the movie this way, but afterwards, when the TV came back on, David flipped through the channels and we watched an episode of _Seinfeld_, for which I also remained awake, but after that, he got stuck on a sports news station, checking out baseball scores or some such thing, and then I felt myself drifting away…

-

Some undetermined amount of time later I woke up to the sensation of his fingers once again brushing back my hair. I turned and looked up at David. "Hey," I smiled. "What time is it?"

"I think it must be about four a.m."

I sat up suddenly. "Oh my God, David! Why didn't you wake me?"

"How could I wake you?" he wondered. "You looked so peaceful, sleeping like that, everything about you so totally set on the Pause Button."

"The Pause Button has been deactivated," I announced. "Full force re-entry into real life. First, where is Lizzie?"

"She came home hours ago," David said. "She wasn't happy to see me here. She went straight to her room."

"Oh, good. She's in," I said, breathing a sigh of relief. "And what about you? What about your parents?"

"They're not even home," David said. "Date night got extended to an overnight getaway. They're in San Francisco, I think."

"They are?" I knew he could probably hear the edge of jealousy in my voice. When had Sam and I last enjoyed a getaway? I couldn't even think back that far.

"Well then," I said. "I guess you're alright. And I'm just thinking, as long as it's so late all ready, does it even make sense for you to go home at this point? Why don't you just stay and sleep on the couch?"

David shook his head. "No. Lizzie looked like she was about to bite my head off when she came in and found me here a few hours ago. If I'm still here in the morning when she wakes up, I'm not sure what she might do to me."

I leaned over and wrapped my arms around him, laying my head against his chest. "Oh, David, don't you worry," I said. "I would not let her do anything to harm you."

He pat my back and said, "Now I really should go, Jo. I really can't put this off any longer."

"I know," I said sadly.

"Besides," he said, "Mom and Dad will be back around three in the afternoon, and then Dad and I are going car shopping."

"A big day," I said, letting him go. "And you haven't had any sleep!"

"I dozed a little," he said. "But right now, I have to admit, I am thinking about my own bed."

"Okay," I said, standing up. "What about your clothes in the dryer?."

"Not a biggie," he said. "I'll get them next time. I just need my wallet and my keys."

"On the table in the foyer."

As we walked towards the front door, I thought about everything that had happened tonight, and by the time we got to the door, I was laughing lightly.

"What?" David smiled.

"I'm just remembering how you looked with all that mud all over you, and shaking your hair out, like an English Sheepdog…"

He tried to frown at me for taking pleasure in his misfortune, but he could not keep his frown from turning into a grin, and then he was laughing too.

"See!" I exclaimed. "I told you you would be laughing about it before you knew it!"

"It's so easy to laugh when I'm with you, Jo," he said, that same strange look in his sleepy blue eyes that I had seen earlier.

I looked at him and thought about him sleeping in his own bed, then getting up to go car shopping with his dad, then buying the car that was going to take him away from me. My smile turned to a pout as I moved close and wrapped my arms around him, saying suddenly, sadly, "I'm going to miss you so much, my sweet young man."

I felt him take a deep breath as his arms came up to envelop me in a hug that would not let go. I know he was feeling the sadness too. And then he whispered, directly into my ear, in the softest voice I'd ever heard him use, "I'm going to miss you too, Jo."

We didn't say anything else, we just remained in that tight embrace in the foyer for such a long time, until we were almost swaying, almost dancing again. I could have stood there like that with him until the sun rose, but I knew he had to get home and get some sleep for his big day, so at last I gave him a squeeze to let him know it was time to let go.

We pulled apart a little, and then, as was my habit, I reached up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. But something happened this time. It may have been my fault. I'm not exactly sure. Maybe I misjudged or maybe he moved too much, or maybe a little of both. But my kiss did not land on his cheek. It landed on his lips, and it kind of got stuck there for a moment longer than it should have.

I think he was as shocked as I was, because I heard him mutter a little "mmm…" It was the exact sound he had made earlier in the evening when I had been so flirtatiously rubbing his chest, and it tied that moment to this, charging it with the sexual energy I have alternately been embracing and trying to avoid. At the moment I preferred to avoid it, and so did he, I suppose, because as we pulled apart he instantly said, "Sorry…"

I smiled at him. "It's okay," I said, gently. "It was an accident."

"An accident," he agreed, nodding.

"You'd better get home," I said.

"I'd better get home," he agreed, nodding.

"Good night, David."

"Good night," he said. "I'd better get home."

He started to walk out the door and I said, "Oh! Don't forget your wallet and your keys."

"My wallet," he said, taking it from me. "And my keys. Thanks, Jo. And sorry…"

"No need to be sorry," I said. "It was an accident."

"Okay," he said. "An accident."

He left nodding and mumbling, probably from lack of sleep, but possibly also from shock. I locked up after him and stood for a moment with my head against the door, laughing lightly and thinking, _My sweet…sweet young man…_


	10. Chapter 10: David

_I was delighted to see a review from Popstar, who I don't think I've ever heard from before. Your comment about my characters being "canon" really made me feel good, since that was what I was striving for, to show how the characters could be IN character and yet have this really wild situation happen to them. Please comment again! _

_And anyone else who is reading and has not yet commented, please comment as well! As my roommate so eloquently puts it, after having to listen to me gush endlessly about what great comments I get on my stories, I am a "Comment Whore" (lol!) Even if you just say "I like this story!" you will make me very happy. Even if you say "I hate this story" you will make me happy, because I will have to wonder why you are still reading it if you hate it so much. It's not so much about being LIKED as it is about being COMPELLING._

For Black Knight 03, I threw in a brief reference to a MG moment that may someday turn into another story for my Gordo. I think you might be able to guess the gist of such a story. In fact, if I remember correctly, you may have written a similar story already yourself. Too many other things to write first, but someday I may get to a MG. Anyway, thanks for the inspiration!

_- _

The street seemed exceptionally silent, the dark air cool and thin at four in the morning. In sharp contrast, everything inside me was running at full blast, full speed and in vivid technicolor. I was so wired! What a night! And what had just happened?

How had that happened? That kiss. I hadn't turned my head…at least I don't think I did, at least I hadn't consciously been planning to. Maybe I had, thought. Maybe my body was taking over now, acting without my consent. It wouldn't be the first time.

But I don't think that was what happened. It almost felt like Jo knew exactly what she was doing, like she had planned it, at least on some level. I don't think it was an accident at all. I suspected she was more responsible for that kiss than I was. And thinking that made it all the more exciting for me.

I heard my sneakers hitting the pavement as I hurried home, totally wired. When you can hear sneakers on pavement, you know the world is still and quiet. The world was still and quiet, but I was not. And then, suddenly, I smacked my palm on my forehead.

"'Sorry'?" I scolded myself, the word bouncing off the silence all around me.

_Sorry? _What the hell was that? Another entry in the David Gordon Gallery of Stupid Things to Say After a First Kiss.

With Lizzie, years ago, my first contribution to this Gallery had been "Thanks." I beat myself up for months over that one.

Then, with Nicole, my first high school girlfriend, I added "Yikes!" It had been "Yikes!" in a good way, and it made her laugh immediately, but afterwards I never forgot how silly it had sounded.

Evelyn, my latest girlfriend, had been very much the initiator in our relationship, and she came on so strong that all I could say when I she let me up for air was a feeble "Help…"

Then there was that really strange moment between Miranda and me just after Lizzie and I broke up the summer after tenth grade. I'm still not really sure what happened there, but I do remember coming out of a daze and asking, "What planet are we on?"

And now another entry. "Sorry." But what was I sorry for? And was I really sorry? No, I wasn't sorry at all. Not about anything. Except saying "Sorry."

I was wired. I got home and paced the house for at least an hour, trying to expend my excess energy, trying to make sense of everything that was going on. I had thought that thing with Miranda two summers ago had been weird. This was even weirder. But in a good way. In a totally good way.

But I wished I hadn't said "Sorry." I didn't want Jo to think I was really sorry. Maybe I should go back over there and apologize for my apology. Maybe I needed to let here know my true feelings.

Could any good come of that? I was leaving in only a few days. I had broken it off with Evelyn weeks before she left for college in New York because I knew we were not going to be able to sustain a long-distance relationship, and I didn't want to be burdened with the angst of weepy goodbyes when it came my time to leave Hillridge. I was looking forward to a good, clean break with this place.

But now…now…I was right back where I started, only worse, because already I cared about Jo far more than I had ever cared about Evelyn. This was going to be so hard, leaving her behind. And if I had to leave her behind, I certainly didn't want her thinking I was sorry we had kissed.

A part of me wanted to hurry back over to her house right away and make sure there was no misunderstanding on this point. I wanted to do that, but when my temporarily malfunctioning Reality Monitor finally kicked in, I knew that trip was out of the question. What was I going to do? Pound on her door at six a.m. and say, "I'm not sorry we kissed"? Sane people did not behave that way.

I guess I wasn't feeling completely sane at the moment. I did know I was delirious from lack of sleep. I had missed an entire night, sitting on the couch with Jo, watching her sleep. No wonder I was thinking such strange, erratic thoughts.

I forced myself to lie down on my bed. My body twitched as my head spun. Still, I could not shake the idea of going back to her house. I saw myself going up the path, through the door. In this dream---if it was a dream---the front door was not locked. And Lizzie was not there. I climbed the stairs and found Jo in her bedroom, asleep in her bed, all alone in that big bed, until I laid down next to her and took her in my arms...

Now my head was really spinning, and I felt the rest of my body wanting to participate in this fantasy---or dream, or whatever it was---but alas, both mind and body were finally forced into submission by the overwhelming need for sleep.

-

The next day Dad and I went car shopping. Dad had a patient who had a brother who owned a used car lot, and he guaranteed us a sweet deal, so we went to check it out, and I fell in love with a Mustang that was only five years old and totally within my price range. And it was metallic blue. Dad's philosophy when making a large purchase (or when doing just about anything, for that matter) was to "sleep on it" at least one night, so he did not let me put any money down on the car that day.

That evening I went out to dinner with my parents. It was the last time we would go out together as a family before I left for Berkeley on Tuesday, so it was kind of sad, but also kind of exciting. Mom kept talking about how much I was growing up. She also said that if the car was "meant to be" it would still be there in the morning.

The next morning I informed Dad that I had slept on it and wanted the Mustang. We went down to the lot, did the paperwork and I got to drive it home. What a trip! What a blast! I could totally see myself filling this car with all my personal belongings and making the road trip to Berkeley, where Adam had a room waiting for me in his rented house. In a few days I would be there, I would be starting a new life.

In a few days, I would be leaving Jo.

I was a mess of conflicted emotions.

I also only had two more shifts to work at Circuit City: tonight and Monday. The plan had always been that I would leave on Tuesday, so I would have a few days to get settled in before having to start classes the following week. Now a part of me was thinking that I wouldn't mind staying in Hillridge a few extra days, if only so I could spend some more time with Jo. I didn't know how I would explain that to my parents or anyone else, including Jo, but that was what I was thinking.

I knew I at least wanted the opportunity to take her for a ride in my new car. I started having this fantasy about us going for a long drive, and ending up at the beach somewhere at sunset, standing together barefoot on the sand, looking at the sky, then kissing passionately as the night came on full force. Then getting back into the car, and maybe somehow getting into the backseat, and----

I so did not need these thoughts right now. I had everything planned out, and now my plans were all screwed up. I had to get myself under control. Being out of control was not a comfortable place for a Gordon to be. Especially not at a time like this.

-

The Mustang was mine, sitting in my driveway, but until I got it registered and insured on Monday morning, there was no way Mom and Dad were going to let me drive it to work. Monday afternoon I would be able to drive my new car to my last day on the job, but Sunday evening at ten p.m., I still needed a lift. And as always, Jo was there.

"Hey, how did everything go yesterday?" she asked as soon as I got in the car.

I told her all about the Mustang. I was so busy babbling, that I had actually temporarily forgotten about everything that had happened the last time we saw each other, about the heavy flirting, the chest hair, what I'd done in her shower, the four a.m. kiss. She could see that I was so excited about my car, and I knew she was excited for me, but I could also see that she was a little sad when I started talking about how easily all my stuff would fit into the car for the ride to Berkeley. I eased up on that kind of talk and asked, "Would you like to come see it?"

"I would love to see it!" she exclaimed. "Just one thing. Are your parents going to be there?"

So then…there was some awkwardness on her part, possibly some…guilt? I didn't want to run into my parents either and have to explain why Lizzie's mother was looking at my new car, but not Lizzie. But that was not likely to be a problem. I explained to Jo that my parents had tickets for a show in the city, something they'd been looking forward to for a long time. They would not be home for some time. Jo drove directly to my house.

I knew she wasn't a big car nut. I hadn't known many girls who were. I popped the hood and showed her how clean the engine was, which was pretty much lost on her, but she did "ooh" and "ahh" over the beautiful metallic blue shine, the leather interior and the superior sound system. We were sitting in the car in the driveway, listening to Eric Clapton on the radio, and I felt myself beaming like a proud daddy.

"Look at you, David," she said, and I had pretty much learned by this time that whenever she said "Look at you" that meant some incredibly personal and often embarrassing observation was on the way. But this time she just kept smiling at me and saying "Look at you. Look at you."

Then finally she nodded her head and proclaimed, "David. David. I've got to admit. This is a pretty sexy car."

Now finally I blushed. I felt myself grinning ear to ear. "Yes," I had to agree. "It certainly is."

"This car is going to be your friend," Jo predicted. " This car is going to get you get a girlfriend the moment you arrive in Berkeley."

I know she was just joking around, but somehow her comment made me feel really sad inside. I didn't want a girlfriend. I couldn't possibly think about anyone else but her right now. I looked across at her sitting in the passenger seat of my new car, and made an instantaneous decision.

"Before my new car and I carry out this amazing feat of attracting women like moths to a flame," I said, "would you let me take you out tomorrow night, Jo? I'd like to take you for dinner, to thank you for all the delicious food you've been feeding me these past weeks. And I'd like to drive, to thank you for all the times you've saved me the pain in the ass of having to take the bus. Please let me do this for you. I won't feel right unless you do."

She looked at me for a long time, and I was starting to get nervous, until at last I saw the corners of her mouth begin to go up in an amused little smile. "David, " she said ever so sweetly. "Are you asking me out on a date?"

I shrugged. "Call it what you will. I feel we've become…very close, these last weeks, Jo. And I think we deserve to give ourselves a special time to have a proper goodbye."

"So do I," she said quietly, with a big smile. "I would be happy to go out with you for dinner, David. Dinner…and a drive."

I smiled back, but inside some crazy stuff was happening, especially as I rememebered my most recent fantasy about the back seat of this car. If my face wasn't beet red by this time, I'm sure I don't know what color it was. My heart was beating like crazy. I could feel myself breathing. I almost felt like I was going to pass out.

I think Jo could see all this happening to me too, because suddenly she laughed and said, "Why don't you go inside now and take a shower? I've got some leftover lasagna and a fresh bottle of wine, and nobody's home at my house tonight either. We won't be disturbed."

Egads! Was I reading too much into her words, or was she flirting with me again, big time?

"What's…what's the movie?" I managed to ask.

"Bring something from your collection," she said. "Surprise me," she added with a wink.

"Comedy or drama?"

"Comedy," she replied instantly. "Definitely comedy. I don't think I could take anything too heavy or too serious tonight."

"Me neither," I agreed.

Great!" Jo said. "Then we're just going to have a good time tonight. We're going to have a nice time."

-

A good time? Or a nice time? The connotations were not exactly the same for both phrases. A nice time was a nice time. But "a good time" could be something else entirely. All the while I showered and changed my clothes, I wondered what Jo really meant by "a good time." I wondered if I was reading way too much into her words. What was happening here? I felt unstable, almost believing anything could happen.

I folded Sam's clothes from the night before and carried them out of the house, topped by my _Dodgeball _DVD, one of my favorite Ben Stiller movies, which was somewhat crass, but hysterically funny. I still laughed a lot every time I saw it, and tonight I just wanted Jo to be able to laugh and laugh and not have to be upset by anything sad.

When I got to her house, though, I could see that she was already upset. After I rang the front doorbell, while I was waiting for her to open the door, I could hear her yelling. When she opened the door I saw that she was on the phone. She barely looked at me as she let me in, all her focus on the phone.

"Well, that's just swell, Sam. You know what? Do you really want to know what? I don't give a damn anymore. No actually, more than that: I don't give a _flying fuck! _What do you think about that?_"_

I followed Jo into the kitchen, where she leaned against the kitchen counter, the phone pulled away from her ear, listening impatiently to her husband, who was obviously also yelling, because I could hear him clear across the room, though I could not make out any of his words.

"Oh, yeah," Jo shot back suddenly. "And when was the last time you----?"

She paused, then gasped. "That is so not true! You're losing your memory, old man. I never---!"

I was starting to feel uncomfortable, listening to this, so I walked into the living room and sat down on the couch, hoping this would be over soon. I could smell the lasagna cooking, I had seen the wine on the kitchen counter. I hoped out evening wasn't going to be ruined, and I hoped there would be some way to get Jo past the stress she was so obviously feeling at the moment.

"Whatever!" I heard Jo screaming into the phone, sounding more like Kate Sanders from high school than like herself. "That's all I have to say to you at this point, Sam McGuire: WHATEVER!"

Then I heard her scream "Aaaargh!" in her loudest voice and I also heard the portable phone smashing against the wall.

I ran into the kitchen. "Jo---"

"Aaaargh!" she repeated, shaking her hands in the air uncontrollably. She looked like she was about to crack. I had never felt so worried about her. I ran and wrapped my arms around her.

"Calm down," I said, holding her tight. "It's okay. It's going to be okay…"

Jo was so agitated by her fight with Sam that she couldn't bear to stand still, and after only a moment in my arms, she pulled away and began pacing the kitchen.

"What is wrong with me?" she asked in bewilderment. "Why is this happening? Why can't I hold on to him? Why doesn't Sam love me anymore?"

I don't know if she was talking to me so much as she was talking to herself. One thing I did know, by the tone of her voice, was that no matter what she may or may not have said to me about Sam in the past (and she had said plenty), at the end of the day, she still loved him. That much was obvious. She loved him, and I was an idiot, crushing on a married woman who was so in love with her husband.

But this wasn't about me now, it was about her. I put my own feelings aside and said, "Listen, Jo. It's a rough patch. All marriages go through them. My parents have had a few, and they're still together. I'm sure Sam does still loves you very much…as much as you love him…" I couldn't help adding.

"Oh, you're sure?" she shot back. "What makes you so sure of that, David?"

I had no answer. I was, in fact, sure of Sam's love for Jo, but I didn't know how to explain it. I lifted my shoulders and opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

"Because I'm not so sure," Jo went on. "And I think I'm a little closer to the problem than you are. I see things about Sam that nobody else sees. I see how he looks at me---or rather how he doesn't look at me anymore. There used to be a time when he couldn't stop looking at me. Now it's almost like I'm not even there, or like I'm a piece of the furniture. You know…furniture! You see it every day, but you never think about it. You don't get excited about it. But you would miss it if one day you looked and it was gone."

"What are you saying, Jo?"

She sighed heavily and walked into the living room, plopping down on the couch. I followed and sat beside her. "What are you saying?" I repeated. "Are you thinking to leave him?"

She sat still for a long time, looking like she was about to cry. I can't explain why exactly, but I very much needed to hear that she was not thinking of leaving Sam. Despite anything I might currently be feeling about Jo, it would destroy my world to hear that the McGuires were splitting up. Some things could just not happen in the real world and still have it be the real world.

Finally Jo gave one last "Aaaargh!" and cried, "No! No! I don't want to leave him. I don't want him to leave me. I want us to be together, and I want things to be good, like they used to be. I want him to notice me, to care about me, to treat me like something more than furniture! But how do I do that? How do I do that? I'm wracking my brain trying to figure out how to do that.

"Everything I've done to myself, I've done for him, you know. My eyes, my boobs…all for him, to make myself sexier for him. But does he even care? Has it done us any good? Not one damn bit of good! We were supposed to be having more sex by this time, not less. Sam is a 'boob man.' That's why I had them done. He can't resist a good set of knockers. It's always been that way. Once, when we were first married---"

"Jo," I interrupted. "It doesn't matter what happened when you were first married." I said this partly because it was true, but mostly because I did not want to hear any more stories about her sex life with Sam. She had told me too many already, and I had always listened, partly out of friendship, and partly out of guilty fascination, but at this point I simply could not bear to hear another tale about something I wanted so much, but which would never be mine. It was far too frustrating.

"Okay," she agreed. "You're right, of course. The past doesn't matter. But what about the present? And what about the future? Here I am, waiting for him at home, my brand new boobs just aching to be touched and played with…in fact, every part of me aching, just aching…and does he want to come home to me? No! He wants another day on the road! Another chance to make another dollar! He would rather make another dollar than to come home and fuck his wife. Is that right, I ask you? Is that right?"

Okay. She had just sent me over the edge, into the land of utter speechlessness. I understood that this was not a rhetorical question, that she was looking for the answer, for the verbal validation "No, that's not right, that's not right at all!" She wanted to hear me say that. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do anything but sit there stupidly, staring at her, back and forth between her face and her breasts, which by her own admission were aching to be played with. I sat stupidly and listened to all the blood in my body rush through my veins.

"David, you do understand, don't you? I know you're on my side, aren't you? You're not going to take his side, just because you're a man? Oh, please! You've got to tell me! I've got to know I'm not crazy."

She wasn't crazy. And I did understand. But I couldn't tell her. I couldn't speak.

"I know I look good," she said. "Just tell me that much, at least, that I look good."

"You look good," I managed to squeak out.

"I know I do!" she exclaimed. "Now just tell me this," she added, bringing her hands up the sides of her body pushing her breasts up and forward. "What the hell is wrong with Sam? If you were my husband, wouldn't you want to touch these and play with these all day long?"

She looked at me, and I looked back at her, but mostly at her breasts which she had thrust practically in my face, and I could not speak. I could not move. But then somehow I moved. I got up off the couch, which had grown suddenly hot and extremely uncomfortable and I went into the kitchen.

Jo followed me. "David, don't run away from me."

"I'm not running away from you," I said, nervously circling the kitchen island.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you? I'm not crazy, am I? There's nothing wrong with me wanting my husband to play with my boobs, is there? And there's nothing wrong with me wanting him to come home from a long business trip, and before he can even drop his suitcase or think if anything else, to want to take me upstairs and fuck me. That doesn't make me an oversexed bimbo, does it? Why doesn't he want to fuck me anymore? David, where are you going? Why are you running away? Stay here and talk to me. I need you to talk to me, or I'm going to go crazy."

"Jo, _I'm_ going to go crazy if you don't stop this!"

"You're going to go crazy?" she questioned. "Why are you going to go crazy? What's your problem, David?"

"My problem? My problem?" I exclaimed, pacing the opposite side of the kitchen island. "Jo! Do you really have no idea what you're doing to me? My problem is that I'm _not_ your husband, yet I _do_ want to touch your breasts and play with them. All day long. I think about them, and I think about you, lately it seems…_all day long_."

I stopped for a moment and caught my breath. I saw that now I had cast her into utter speechlessness. I should have stopped there, I had said too much already, but now that the dam had burst, I figured, what was the use of trying to hold it back?

"Sam is insane," I said. "He's insane not to come home and fuck you. He's insane to leave you here with me, when I want you so much." I looked at her across the kitchen, wondering whose voice that had been. Was that me? Had I really said all those things?

And then I heard myself add, in a quiet, sad voice, "So much, Jo. I want you so much."

And then I couldn't bear to look at her anymore, it just hurt too much. I leaned on the counter, my face in my hands, having no idea what might happen next, but knowing that I had passed a point of no return. I waited for her reaction.

At first there was silence, utter silence. Then the stove timer rang, nearly shocking me out of my skin.

The lasagna was ready.

But we were not ready for the lasagna.


	11. Chapter 11: Jo

_Hunker down! This is a long chapter, and action-packed._

_To bring you up to speed, David has just confessed his feelings with Jo. Now she gets to respond... _

_- _

The stove timer was ringing. There must have been some reason for it, but at the moment I couldn't think what it was. I stared at David, on the other side of the kitchen, holding his head in his hands.

_Oh my God! Oh my God! _I thought. _I can't believe he just said all that!_

David looked up at me suddenly. "Jo…" he said, and it was funny that with only one utterance of my name, out of all the things he might have meant, I knew exactly what he was trying to tell me.

"Right," I said, and I turned around, shut off the stove and the timer, took the lasagna out of the oven. Then I pulled the oven mitts off my hands and I walked across the kitchen, where my sweet young man stood doubled up over the counter, holding his head, afraid to look at me.

Well, I had suspected something like this. It wasn't a total surprise. Of course I knew he had a little crush on me. That was part of what made it so much fun to be with him. He made me feel so good about myself, at a time when nobody else could. And I liked him so much, there was no doubt about that.

I put my hand on his back. "David…" I said gently.

I felt a giant, shaking sigh run through his body. "You know what," he said, miserably. "I think I should go…"

"Don't you dare!" I huffed. "You're always trying to run off when the situation gets too intense. Don't you dare run out on me at a time like this."

"Jo, I've said too much already. It's best if I go."

"You're not going anywhere, young man," I said, pulling him up off the counter. "We're going to deal with this. Right now. You're going to stand right there and look me in the eye."

He was upright now, leaning against the counter, and I was standing directly in front of him. But he refused to look at me. He was mortified. But he was so cute this way. I could barely keep myself from reaching out and starting something.

I didn't want to do that, though. I remembered his story about that girl who had taken advantage of him at the beach. I didn't want it to be like that. I wanted _him_ to make the decision. But already I had decided that I did indeed want him to make that decision. I wanted something to happen. I know I shouldn't, but I did.

"David," I said gently. "I need you to look at me."

Finally he was able to bring his eyes to mine.

I smiled at him. "It's okay, " I said quietly, reassuringly. "It really is. It's okay."

He drew in a deep breath, and seemed a little encouraged, a little more comfortable, but I knew he was still going to need some help.

"I want you…" I began, and his eyes instantly went wide as I paused after these words. "I want you…to feel free…completely free to..."

I was in front of him, and I moved a little closer, pressing into him, my pretty little flowered skirt rubbing against his blue jeans, and I realized instantly that no matter what his mind might say about thinking it best he should go, his body was not in agreement.

I felt a shudder run through my own body as I pressed against him, and I wanted to get closer still, but once again I thought how I wanted him to make the decision. I didn't want to seduce him. I didn't want to be a Mrs. Robinson. I only wanted to let him know it was okay with me and let him take it from there. What an incredible amount of self restraint I exhibited as I waited for his shyness to catch up with the situation.

"David," I said finally, when he had not moved for some time. "It's okay if you want to touch them…"

There was no doubt who _they_ were. They were between us, barely covered by my little yellow tank top. I noticed that, as always, David could not stop glancing at them. I knew that if I just had the patience to wait for him, we would both get everything we wanted.

And there it was. There he was, his hands coming up the sides of my body, traveling slowly, uncertainly, until at last they came to rest firmly on my breasts, fully cupping them with both hands.

I gasped. I have to admit I had imagined several times before how it might feel to have his hands all over me, but this was better than anything I had yet imagined.

"You can….squeeze them," I breathed. "You can play with them. It's okay, David. Please…please play with them…"

I was losing my resolve to wait for him. I couldn't wait for him. I wanted him. And as I began to feel his hands moving and squeezing, a shot of desire bolted through me and I moaned, no longer able to prevent myself from pressing harder into him, rubbing my belly against his crotch.

He moaned too, at last letting go of his shyness, his hesitation. And then at the same moment we were seeking each other's mouths with our own open mouths. Just before I closed my eyes, I saw him coming towards me and I knew this was going to be good.

He must have brushed his teeth before he came over, because he was all pepperminty inside, and it made me want to eat and suck his mouth all the more. I couldn't get enough of how sweet he was. My hands came up into his hair, holding him steady so I could get more and more of his kisses.

What we had shared the previous night, that wasn't a kiss. This was a kiss. This was a series of the most intense kisses that would not stop. And all the while he was still squeezing and caressing my breasts. I don't know which was making me more crazy, his mouth or his hands, but his combined efforts were pushing me beyond anything I'd felt in a long, long time.

And yet I needed more. I lifted his shirt a little and got my hands in against his skin, going up his bare back. He pulled away from my mouth a moment and rested his face against my neck, and I could hear him catching his breath as he began to kiss and lick my neck. Then his hands came off my breasts and grabbed the thin straps of my little yellow top, pulling them down off my shoulders.

His kisses moved to my shoulders and towards my upper chest, his mouth getting closer and closer to my breasts, and now I could hear myself breathing. But neither of us were talking at this point.

I couldn't wait for his mouth to get to my breasts, and yet there was something else I couldn't wait for either. My hands moved down his back and played along the waistband of his jeans. Slowly, gently, I slipped my fingertips inside, just my fingertips, running along the smooth skin of his belly. And then the fingers of both my hands met in the middle, working together to pull open the top button of his jeans.

He pulled back suddenly, exclaiming, "Jo! What are you doing?"

I had tossled his hair, I had rubbed his shoulders, I had even caressed his chest. But I had never touched him below the belt, and this new sensation seemed to startle him and he pulled away from me a little more.

I pulled him back with my fingers inside the top of his jeans. I reached up and kissed him fully on the mouth. "David, I want you," I said plainly.

Now he was shaking. I felt him trying to steady himself, and I knew exactly what he was thinking. This was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for since his first wet dream. This was really going to happen. And he was fully ready for it.

Now he let me unzip him, but immediately his hands came down and grabbed mine. "Jo!" he gulped, "We can't do this _here."_

"You're right," I said, succumbing to the voice of reason, even though I did at that moment have a very clear image of the two of us naked on the kitchen floor. I pulled myself together and said, "But then…where? And how?"

Despite himself, I'm sure, his hands went back to the top of my shirt, pulling it down a little more.

"Could we…could we go to your room?" he asked expectantly as once again his mouth was drawn to breasts, which he was squeezing up and forward with his hands.

I pulled his face up to mine and kissed him again. I couldn't get enough of him. But when our tongues separated, I had to say, "No…no…I can't do that. Not in my room. You understand…"

I couldn't even think the word _Sam_ at this point, but he was the reason why I could not take David to my bedroom, and I hoped he understood this on some level without me having to go into too much detail.

"Well then, we could…we could…go to my house….nobody's there," he suggested, planting tiny kisses all around my cleavage.

I shook. And I shook my head. "No…no…look at the time, David. It's getting late. Your parents will be back soon."

Oh my God, I felt like I was in high school again. _Your parents will be back soon? _ Everything felt so unreal.

"We'll think of something…" he said absently, but at the moment neither of us was able to think about anything, because we were back at it again, kissing and touching each other uncontrollably.

This went on for several more minutes, I think, though I could have been wrong about the timeframe, because I had completely lost my ability to comprehend anything except what he was doing to my body.

"Jo," he said at last, still pulling down my shirt and handling my breasts at the same time, his mouth and his tongue getting dangerously close to my nipples. "We have to think of something…"

But again it was impossible to think. But this time it was because our thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the sound of the front door opening.

Somebody was coming into the house!

I felt my world go into slow motion as I pushed myself away from David… turned around… pulled up the straps of my shirt… and somehow made the few steps across the kitchen to open the refrigerator door.

"Would you like a soda, David?" I asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

I turned around, as if to look at David for an answer to my question, but most of all I wanted to know who it was that had just now come in. If it was Matt, he would run around gathering his things and be gone. But if it was Lizzie---

It was Lizzie. She was standing in the doorway, looking at both of us, her eyes wide, her mouth hanging open. For a moment I thought she was going to make that huffing noise of exasperation she always used to make when she was in middle school. I hadn't heard it much lately, but this would have been a good time for it.

As I turned and looked at her, I said, "Oh hi, honey! Back so soon?"

She looked from me to David, from David to me. I looked at David and saw why she kept looking at him. He was leaning over the counter, so she could not see---as I could from this angle---the hard, obtrusive package in his unzippered, unbuttoned blue jeans----but with the look on his face, there was no need to see anything else. The boy could not hide his feelings. He was terrible at it. Look up the word "guilt" in the dictionary and there was a picture of David at this very moment.

Now Lizzie huffed. "What's going on here?" she demanded.

I was surprised at how composed I felt I was appearing, despite everything that had just happened. "David and I were just going to have a late night snack of the leftover lasagna," I explained airily. "Would you like some?"

"Mom! Cut it out!" Lizzie barked, and then I knew I had been deceiving myself about being so cool. "What the hell is going on here?"

Okay, screw the innocent routine. I put my hands on my hips and with my best "don't mess with mom" attitude shot back, "What the hell are you talking about, Lizzie?"

"I'm talking about you and Gordo, standing here in the kitchen, looking guilty as sin, both of you! Mom! You're all red. And Gordo----Gordo, stand up straight! Get off the counter and stand up straight."

"Lizzie, you've got some nerve!" I continued. "David, you don't have to do anything she tells you. She's not in charge around here, though sometimes she acts like she thinks she is."

"Don't try to turn this around, Mom. Don't try to make this about me. It's not about me. It's about you and Gordo behaving like---behaving like----like I don't know what but it's disgusting! Mom! It's disgusting! Gordo! Stand up straight!"

And he did. But thankfully, some time during her tirade he had been able to zip up his pants, though not button them. The bulge, though subsiding, was still quite noticeable.

"_This _is what I'm talking about!" Lizzie cried, pointing at poor David, who stood frozen to the spot. "This!" she cried again, clearly looking at his pants. "Why is this happening? Don't you two have any sense of what's right and wrong? Don't you have any shame? Mom, I can't believe I'm saying this to you. I'm so disappointed in you. I feel like the mother, and you're my teenage daughter who's been caught having sex with---"

"We are NOT having sex!" I screamed back at Lizzie. "You see a little bit, Lizzie, and you jump to conclusions. You've always done that. And it's always gotten you in trouble. And right now I think you'd better stop before you get yourself in any more trouble."

"I think I'd better go," David said quietly, beginning to slip out of the room.

"Oh, David!" I cried. "Oh no!"

"No, I have to go," he said, and before I could stop him, he was gone.

"Good!" Lizzie called after him. "And don't come back!"

We heard the front door closing as David no doubt was bolting down the street, trying to get as far away from Lizzie as possible. She was relentless, she was ruthless. He couldn't deal with her, and I certainly didn't want to either.

"Listen," I said calmly to my daughter. "You are not around here enough, Lizzie, to know anything about what's going on with me or David or your father. So I really think your best course of action right now would be to simply _butt out._ Do you understand what I'm saying to you , Lizzie? Butt out!"

I pushed past her, heading up the stairs, unwilling to continue this conversation any longer. Truth be told, Lizzie's no-nonsense evaluation of the situation had really stirred up a good deal of guilt within me. In the heat of the moment, I had not been able to see how ridiculous and how wrong it would have been to do anything sexual with David, but now I was starting to understand it. I went to my room and tried to cool off from the heat of that moment, whispering to myself, "Get a grip, Jo! Get a grip!"

I shouldn't have used that phrase though, because in only a moment it conjured up images of what I really wanted to grip, and I felt the guilt once again disappaiting under the rising influence of lust.

_This was all Sam's fault! _ If he would take care of me like he was supposed to, I wouldn't be lusting after this sweet young man!

That's right. Blame it all on Sam.

And then I heard the phone ring. I flung myself across the bed towards the nightstand, wondering if it might be David, but before a complete ring could sound, it stopped. Wrong number? Change of plans?

A few moments later, the phone rang again. Once again, a half ring later it was silenced. What was going on?

When the phone rang for a third time, I knew I had to answer. By the time I picked up the receiver, I heard the loud slamming down of a receiver.

"Hello?" I said. "Who's there?"

"Jo!" I heard the relief in David's voice. "I keep calling and Lizzie keeps hanging up on me."

"Don't worry about her," I said. "Are you alright?"

"I am, now that I hear your voice. Jo, I've figured out what we can do. Can you get away? Can you come pick me up?"

"Mom!"

The voice was not downstairs or in the hallway, but on the phone. Lizzie had picked up the phone again and broken in on our conversation.

"Lizzie," I ventured, striving to keep myself under control. "I'm on the phone."

"Well, get off the phone, Mom! You don't need to be talking to him. He's a snake! He's a weasel! He's going to mess you up, then walk away."

"Lizzie, you are skating on thin ice here."

"Mom, I'm not going to let you do this to yourself!"

"Hang up, David," I said. "I'll call you back as soon as I can."

David obeyed, and I was now on the phone with Lizzie, saying "I thought I told you to butt out!"

"I can't, Mom! I won't!"

"Lizzie, this jealousy is very unattractive on you!"

"Jealousy?" she screamed, and then there was nothing more on the phone, but a moment later she was bursting through my bedroom door, saying, "Jealousy? Mom, you are so off!"

"Oh, am I?"

"I'm not jealous of Gordo! I'm through with Gordo. I have Josh now. I don't even think about Gordo anymore, except to think what a snake he is, coming after my mother."

"I think you're jealous," I repeated calmly. It was a low trick, but it took the focus off me for the moment.

Lizzie laughed contemptuously. "So wrong, Mom! You are so wrong. I don't know why you would even think something like that. You must not be paying attention. In fact, I know you're not paying attention. Because if you were paying attention to anything other than Gordo these days, you would realize how I feel about him. And it's not jealous. It's just plain disgusted. Gordo means nothing to me anymore. That part of my life is so over. You're living in the past if you think I have any feelings for Gordo.

"And you're also living in a fantasy world if you think there could ever be anything between you and him. Why are you doing this, Mom? Are you really willing to risk everything you have with Dad, just for a quickie with---of all people---Gordo!

"Dad may be a lot of things, he may be doing a lot of things wrong these days, but one thing I'm pretty sure of, he's not cheating on you. You've got to respect at least that much. Please, Mom, don't burn any bridges between you and Dad. I don't want you two to break up. I need you both. I need you together. Please…please think about what you're doing…"

Well, my plan had backfired. Somehow Lizzie had brought this fully around to me again, and in such a way that I had absolutely no reply to her words, because they made so much sense. But I was not going to admit that to her. I simply said, "You know what, Lizzie? It's practically midnight. I'm very tired. I think I'd like to go to bed now."

"We can talk about this more in the morning?" Lizzie said. "You promise me you won't do anything stupid tonight?"

"Tonight has pretty much been a total disaster, hasn't it?" I said. "I think I'd like to go to bed and make a fresh start in the morning."

"Okay," Lizzie agreed. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I'm so sorry for yelling and you and all. I never thought I'd be in this position…"

Lizzie looked like she was going to cry, so I got up off the bed and gave her a big hug. She hugged me back, and after a moment I thought I felt her body jerking with an attempt to hold back tears. Way to pour on the guilt! I couldn't take any more of this, so I pat her on the back and said, "It's okay, honey. Let's both get some sleep and I'm sure everything will look better in the morning."

She agreed, said good night and went to her room. I stood in my room and felt a jumbled mess of emotions.

On the one hand, I knew everything Lizzie was saying was true ----well, except the part about David being a snake. But I knew no good could come of there being anything between us. I mean, I'm sure it would be good, it would be an incredible experience I would remember for the rest of my life, but it wasn't really going to help either or us deal with the things that were bothering us. I would still have to deal with Sam, only now with the added guilt of having been unfaithful to him, and David would still have to go away to college, and it would be that much more difficult for him to make the break.

Yet, on the other hand, I still wanted him. All I had to do was remember how passionately he had kissed me, and the feel of his hands squeezing my breasts, and I could not deny how much I still wanted him. I didn't know what to do, so I stood there stupidly in the middle of my room for a few minutes, feeling so confused.

Then I knew there was one thing I had to do. I had to at least call him back. I couldn't leave him hanging like this, I had told him I would call him back. I wasn't sure what I would say, but I knew I had to make the call.

I looked at the phone. It was probably still off the hook, but if it wasn't, and I could reach David through this phone, I couldn't chance Lizzie breaking in on our conversation again. I had to get to my cell phone, which was in my purse downstairs. I needed an excuse to go downstairs, and then I remembered the lasagna, sitting on top of the stove. I hurried down the hall, silently, past Lizzie's closed bedroom door.

Once downstairs, I went immediately to my purse and pulled out my phone, stuffing it in my bra. One of the side benefits of having decent sized breasts, I had come to discover, was that it gave you an instantaneous storage place for stray items.

I hurried to cover the lasagna with foil, then put it in the fridge. I made it back up the stairs and into my room without Lizzie even knowing.

My heart was beating fast. I felt so sneaky, and so guilty as I pulled the phone out of my cleavage. I scrolled through the list until I saw "Roberta." For a moment it bothered me that the phone number of my potential lover appeared under his mother's name, but that was only for a moment.

What bothered me more, as I pressed the green key, was the possibility that Roberta herself might answer the phone. How would I explain that? My mind raced, and the best I could come up with was "Oh, I must have hit a wrong number!" But thankfully I did not need to say that, because after only half a ring, I heard David on the other end.

"Hello?"

"David?"

"Jo! Thank God! I was starting to think Lizzie had gotten to you."

I didn't want to admit to him how much Lizzie had "gotten to" me, and I still didn't know exactly what I was going to say, but merely hearing his voice made me all mushy inside, and I started to suspect how this conversation might go.

"Listen," David said. "I've figured out what we can do, only we need to act fast. Come out and pick me up. Now. We can go for a drive."

"A drive?" I said. "Where?"

"It doesn't matter," David said. "All that matters is that we can be together, and nobody getting in our way, not Lizzie, not my parents, nobody. Just you and me…"

I felt myself melting. I wanted him so much, but I had to say, "David, it's past midnight. Lizzie's watching me like a hawk. I can't get away."

"Jo…please…" he pleaded, and he sounded so desperate it was all I could do to keep myself from rushing right out and into his arms.

"But…but where would we go?" I asked again. "You don't mean…you aren't suggesting we go to a hotel?"

I'm sure he could tell from the tone of my voice that I was not on board with that idea. It was way too crass.

"No," he said. "Not if you don't want to. We don't need a hotel. We just need to find a quiet place, a private place off the road somewhere---"

"Are you suggesting we do it in the car?" I exclaimed. For some reason, though the idea of a hotel sounded crass to me, the idea of doing it in the car really turned me on.

"We could get into the back seat," David said. " I've already thought this out, Jo. There's plenty of room in the back seat. Think about it."

I was thinking about it. I could clearly imagine us sprawled out, completely naked, David leaning back against the seat while I sat on top of him, riding him, my hair falling forward against his bare chest as he kneaded my breasts with his beautiful hands…

"David…" I said, then I was not able to say any more.

"Jo…" he whispered. "Please…."

I was this close to saying yes, I was coming right over to get him. I just had to wait for my head to stop spinning before I could talk again.

And in that moment as I hesitated, I suddenly heard David whisper, "Oh crap! It's my parents! They're home, they're coming in the house. Come now, Jo! Come get me. I'll sneak out the back, I'll wait for you outside."

"David. David," I said, my head finally catching up to me. "I can't, sweetheart. I can't do this tonight."

"Jo!"

"I'm so sorry. I can't get away." I didn't want to tell him it was the mention of his parents that had brought me to my senses. I didn't want to tell him anything except, "Listen, baby. I don't think this is going to work out for us tonight. There are too many obstacles. But we still have tomorrow night. We're going out for dinner, we're taking your car. Afterwards we'll go for a drive. And then we can test it out and see how much room there is in your backseat."

"You promise?" he asked, sounding both extremely disappointed, and yet full of hope.

I heard his mother in the background calling "Davey, honey! Are you home?"

"Yes," I said quickly. "I promise, sweetie. I promise. You have to go now, baby. Hang up. I'll see you tomorrow. We still have tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," he said, and then he was gone.

I sat on the edge of my bed with my now lifeless cell phone in my hand, wondering if I had just made a promise that, no matter how much I wanted to, I was not going to be able to keep.


	12. Chapter 12: Sam

_Hey! For all my readers and fellow writers, just want to let you know that I have created a LJ where I hope to go to discuss all aspects of the writing craft, pose philosophical questions and such, and just generally go on about all things creative. I am specifically inviting all of you to visit me there, and comment, and join in any discussions that might arise. I don't know if there is already a place for ff writers to go to talk about writing, but if there hasn't been, well there is now, if you want to go there! I should have made it a community, but it's amazing that computer-wise I actually know enough to set up a personal LJ, never mind a community, so don't press your luck, lol! Maybe I can change it later, when I get more computer-savvy.  
_

_Anyway, if you want to visit, go to my profile page and the link should be there. If you are anonymous and can't find the link, go to Live Journal dot com (Documents Manager won't let me type a computer address, grrrr!) and put in the user name christyleereno. OK, hope to see you there!_

_In the meantime, here is Chapter 12, from a new POV: Sam. After this, two more chapters to go. Then maybe I can finally get started on my Tudge-fluff!_

_-_

_- _

I drove all night.

It may not have been the smartest thing to do, but after that argument with Jo, sleep was impossible. I couldn't shake a foreboding feeling that there was something very wrong going on at home. She had been in a snippy mood with me for several months now, but this was different, this was worse. Something told me I needed to get home.

So after two hours of fitful sleep, I packed my bag and left my hotel room at half past one in the morning. I would not stay the extra day for the lunch meeting with the office manager from Apex Chemicals. My boss was going to have something to say about that, I'm sure, but what the hell. I needed to get home.

It had been a long time since I had felt such a strong urge to get home. Nowadays, even when I had been on the road for days at a time, the thought of home did not warm me as much as it used to when I simply walked through the front door at five thirty each evening. Now I knew too well what I was going to find there. Jo with an attitude. Even when she didn't say anything, she had an attitude. She hated my job, she hated my commitment to it. Sometimes I wonder if she had even grown to hate me.

It was not that I loved the job more than I loved her, as she often accused. Sometimes I hated the job as much as she did. The best I could say about the job on a good day was that it didn't "suck eggs," as Matt would put it.

But this was real life. A man has to do what he has to do. Very few of us are lucky enough to get to do exactly what we want to do. And what I wanted to do was so far out there in left field, I had never been able to even verbalize it to anyone, except to Jo, long ago, one perfect evening when Gammy McGuire had taken the kids to her house for a sleepover.

That night, Jo and I had a romantic candlelight dinner at home that included oysters and caviar. Afterwards, we made love in several different areas of the house, employing pieces of furniture and household items which one does not usually associate with lovemaking. What a night that had been! I remembered it now with a smile as I drove down the long, lonesome highway headed home.

And then, after all that crazy stuff, while we were cuddling in the backyard, nestled between two of my favorite garden gnomes, I dared to tell her the silliest dream that was closest to my heart. Gnomes R Us. I wanted to create and distribute a line of Sam McGuire original gnomes for the garden and home. I told her my dream, and she smiled, but she didn't laugh.

But that was back when she loved me, and still believed in me.

Things had changed a lot since then, and lately it seemed I had less and less time to enjoy my hobby, never mind dream about turning it into a business. I had less and less time to enjoy my family, and certainly less time for my wife. We rarely made love in the usual place any more, never mind the creative settings we had dreamed up that night long ago.

And I knew that the sex issue was the worst of our problems, because it was all my fault.

When Jo ragged on me about the job and the long hours, I didn't mind so much, because I knew I was doing it for her and the kids and eventually it would pay off. Eventually, if we had enough patience, the territory would become established, and the money would start rolling in big time, large commissions that would make Jo see that all my hard work had not been in vain.

But when she whined about us not having sex anymore, there was no excuse I could give. Sure, I was stressed, I was tired, my free time was limited. At the end of the day, I wanted to sleep, not engage in any kind of physical activity. During these last months, too, with so many business lunches, I had been packing on a few extra pounds, and to be honest, I didn't feel as energetic as I once did, even when I felt rested. Which I rarely did.

I knew I needed to do something about all this. And I fully intended to. As soon as I had the time to give it some thought.

I drove down the dark highway, giving thought. Jo was so impatient, so unreasonable, so lacking in understanding! And yet I still loved her. I loved her so much. Why couldn't she hang on just a little bit longer, and soon we would be on easy street? Then I would have so much more time for her and the kids. And then we wouldn't have to fight like this anymore. Maybe then we could find a way to arrange for a nice weekend getaway. Lizzie was old enough now to babysit Matt. We could leave them on their own. The only think I worried about was that boy Josh…

As I got closer to home, I started to think about Lizzie and Matt, as well as about Jo. I hadn't been there much for them lately, either. Matt was turning into a punk. I hated the blue hair, but I wasn't going to fight him on it. I was saving my battle strength for the day I found him smoking weed, or destroying public property with his pals. Not that I really expected any of that to happen, but with teenagers, you never know. And Matt was such a different kid than Lizzie. With Matt, anything had always been possible, and it still was.

With Lizzie, lately, it just seemed that she was not really happy, and I didn't know why. Sure she had her boyfriend Josh, and more friends than I could keep track of, but I could tell that something was missing in her life. She was missing contentment, she was missing direction, and I didn't know how to help her. How could I help her find something that I myself did not possess at the moment? That would be strictly a case of the blind leading the blind.

Several hours passed, and the lights and the lines ran together, and several times I snapped myself up from a near- doze. I should have slept a few more hours before heading home. At three-thirty, I stopped on the side of the road and caught forty winks. This gave me the strength to make the remaining miles, taking me off the highway and into Hillridge.

As soon as I saw the familiar sights of my own town, my heart felt warmed. I intended to come into the house quietly, climb the stairs, take off my clothes and get into bed next to my wife, wrapping my arms around her. I hoped she would not smack me or throw me off her, after the way I had screamed at her on the phone. If she let me, I would spoon with her until late into the morning. And when we both woke up, that would be a good time to talk.

These were my intentions, but when at last I pulled my car into the driveway shortly after five a.m., I could tell immediately that somebody was awake in the house. Coming in quietly through the front door, I saw Lizzie cautiously peeking out from the kitchen. The moment she saw me her expression changed from one of dread to relief, and she came directly into my arms, saying, "Dad! Oh, Daddy! I'm so glad you're home. You have to so something. Mom is out of control."

Then she started to cry. This really disturbed me, because it had been years since I had seen Lizzie cry. The last time, if I remembered correctly, was two summers ago, when she broke up with Gordo. Then she had cried buckets, but after that, nothing. It was as if her heart, in some way, had been turned to stone. But now it seemed that the stone was crumbling, and it apparently had something to do with Jo.

"Lizzie, where is your mom?" was the first thing I asked, standing in the foyer with my arms around her.

"She's upstairs," Lizzie sniffed. "She's asleep. She's safe at the moment, but I don't know what's going to happen in the morning. I don't know how I can stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. I can't stop her, Dad. You need to do something! Please! You're the only one who can do something!"

We went into the kitchen. Lizzie calmed down enough to make me a cup of tea. I took off my shoes, and we sat down together in the quiet living room, and then Lizzie began to talk, pouring out her heart.

"It's Gordo," she said straight- out.

I sighed. "Lizzie. Not this again."

"No, Dad! You have to listen to me! Please don't blow me off! You have to hear the whole story."

"Okay," I said patiently, settling back into the softness of the couch cushions. "Tell me the whole story."

I thought at first that as tired as I was I would not be able to concentrate on anything Lizzie said. But I could see she felt it was important that we talk immediately, and so I resolved to make my best effort at staying awake.

However, as she proceeded to detail all her observations with such heartfelt anxiety, I became increasingly disturbed by what she was telling me. Previously I had "blown off" her concerns about Jo's friendship with Gordo, but now Lizzie's intensity, combined with my own sense of foreboding from earlier in the evening, had me at last admitting that perhaps something strange was going on here.

But I didn't want to believe it. It was too unbelieveable, so at first, I tried to explain it away. Lizzie was reading too much into the situation, because she was still sore at Gordo for their breakup. She was mad at her mother for not accepting Josh as readily as some of her other boyfriends. Lizzie always did have a tendency to gather partial information, then fill in the blanks as she saw fit. These same events witnessed by a less emotional person might produce a different conclusion.

She told me about finding Gordo in my bedroom and revealed, with a certain amount of embarrassment, that she had noticed he was "excited." I knew what she meant.

"I wouldn't get too worried about that," I advised. "That happens to guys, sometimes for no apparent reason. Especially young guys," I added with a sigh.

"Okay, maybe," Lizzie allowed. "But I haven't told you yet what happened tonight. It happened again."

Now my mind was truly beginning to feel foggy. "What did? Gordo took a shower at our house again?"

"No, Dad! I mean, I don't know, maybe he did. Maybe Mom took a shower with him, for all I know! All I know is I walked into the house about eleven o'clock tonight and there was Gordo again, standing in the kitchen with Mom, and all…all _excited_ again, and the two of them blushing and looking so guilty. _So guilty_. I'm not making this up, Dad. And I'm not exaggerating. I would bet you anything something was going on between them, right before I walked in."

_Sleep!_ My body called. I needed sleep. I could not deal with this right now. It was like a bad dream already, so why not also have the benefit of sleep?

"Lizzie. Lizzie, " I said carefully. "It sounds like you're out-and-out accusing ---"

"I am," she said instantly. "I would bet anything on it. Dad. I'm not saying they're having sex already. Mom swore up and down that they weren't, and I want to believe she wouldn't lie to me. But if they're not now, they will be soon. Unless somebody does something about it."

I sat back, closing my eyes. This couldn't be happening. My daughter was telling me that my wife was having sex with the eighteen year old boy that had been practically a part of our family for years and years_. What planet was I on?_

"Dad," Lizzie said quietly, "I'm so sorry I had to be the one to tell you all this, but somebody had to do it, and I'm the only one that knows about it. I know you must be tired after traveling all night, and I wish this could have waited till morning, but it can't wait. When she wakes up in the morning, I don't know what she might do. You can't let her leave the house without talking to her first.

"And please…please…talk with her. Don't scream at her, and don't lecture her, and don't just tell her what you're thinking. Please let her talk, and please listen. She's so unhappy, Dad. I hate to say it, but you've really been neglecting her lately. And Gordo is so attentive. I don't think she ever intended to cheat on you, I don't think that was on her mind the first time she picked him up and brought him back home with her. But Gordo…he can really turn on the charm, he can make you forget…if you're not careful, he can almost make you believe any lie he wants to tell you…."

Lizzie stopped for a moment and took a deep breath. I could hear her resentment towards Gordo, but even as I did, I knew now I could not use it as an excuse to avoid the reality of everything else she was saying to me.

"But the fact is," Lizzie went on, "I don't think it matters so much that it was Gordo. I think it could have been anybody, anybody that would pay attention to her right now. I think she's crying out for you to notice her, Dad. I think what she really wants is not Gordo or anybody else, I think she wants_ you._ I mean, I think she still loves you. And I hope you still love her…"

"I do, Lizzie," I said, tiredly. "I do, and I always will."

"And I'm sure she loves you too. So why is this happening? How did everything get so messed up?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "Sometimes life just gets away from us, while we're looking the other way. There's no excuse."

"There's no excuse," Lizzie said, "but there is a solution."

"And what's that?" I asked, too tired to think of it myself. "What do you want me to do?"

"Dad! Just go talk to her! For crying out loud! Why am I the only one in this family who can figure out what needs to be done?"

I laughed a little and held out my arms. "C'mere, Princess."

Lizzie got up immediately and came into my embrace. "Oh, Lizzie!" I said. "It's such a blessing to have a daughter like you, who cares so much about everyone and everything. And who's so smart! What would we do without you?"

"Dad! Don't make fun of me!" Lizzie said, hugging my chest. She tried to sound annoyed, but I could tell she was happy I was playing with her, the way I used to do when she was younger.

"I'm not making fun, Lizzie," I said. "I would never make fun of you."

"Then what are you going to do?" she asked. "About Mom, I mean."

"I guess I have to go talk with her."

"Right away," Lizzie said. "Don't fall asleep first and let her slip out of the house in the morning. Go upstairs and wake her up right now."

"Yes, sir," I saluted.

"Dad!"

A few minutes later, Lizzie said goodnight and went upstairs. The sun was just beginning to rise as I followed her, my old bones aching as I climbed those stairs. Every step was torturous, especially as I thought of what might wait for me at the other end. I was almost afraid to find out what Jo might say. Would she tell me the truth, or deny everything? Would I be able to determine what was true and what was not? Either way, I was in no state to deal with any of this. But there was no getting around it. We needed to talk, and right away.

I opened the bedroom door, then shut it again, closing myself in the room with my wife, who was sleeping alone in our big bed.

She looked up at me, bleary-eyed and said, "Sam! What are you doing here?"

"I have to know," I said straight-out. "And tell me the truth, Jo. Are you cheating on me? Are you cheating on me with…with _Gordo?"_


	13. Chapter 13: Jo

_Okay, only one more chapter after this one. The last chapter will be David, winding this whole thing up, but first, a little something from Jo..._

_- _

I came into the store. I had never come into the store before, except that one time with Sam when we decided to buy the laptop for Matt, and David was so helpful, he really steered us in the right direction and gave us a great deal.

I walked back to the Computer Department and saw David, working up another great deal for another lucky couple, who would probably turn out to be his last customers at this job. It was five minutes to six on Monday evening, the last few moments of his last work shift. Tomorrow he would be on his way to college.

He looked up and saw me, and the smile on his face rivaled the sun. I know it sounds corny, but there is no other way to put it. He said a few quick words to his customers, then excused himself, coming instantly to my side.

"Hey…Jo…" he said, still beaming, his eyes so full of everything I know he was hoping for tonight. I could tell he wanted to reach out and touch me, kiss me, hug me, and it was taking all his self-will to hold himself back in this public setting.

That's why I was here. Because it was a public setting.

"Hi, David," I said, forcing a smile. I wondered if he could tell I had been crying.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "I thought I was going to pick you up at your house. In about forty five minutes?"

_Oh, God! I couldn't do this here_. In fact, I didn't feel I could do this at all. I wished there was some other way around it, but I knew there wasn't. I had to catch him before he got into his car and drove home or, worse yet, over to my house.

"Listen, David," I said. "I….well, I had to come up here for…something….so before you leave, come outside and find me, I'll be down by the Baskin Robbins, sitting outside. Just come find me."

Now he was starting to catch on. I didn't want to use the words "We have to talk," because then he would know. Nothing good ever follows the words "We have to talk." Everybody knows that. So I didn't say those words, but already I think he was catching on.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, his mood obviously darkened by mine.

"Oh yeah," I said, striving for a lighthearted tone. "I mean, nobody's _died_, or anything like that …"

"Are we still on for tonight?" he asked, eyeing me carefully.

"Go finish your sale," I said, nodding towards the customers behind him, which I'm sure he had forgotten all about by this time. "I'll see you outside in a few minutes."

I turned and walked away, already feeling the tears starting to swell up again. At least I hadn't said the dreaded "We have to talk." But what did that matter at this point? In a few moments we would be talking, and in a few moment more, I would be breaking his heart. There was no easy way around this.

-

I saw him, walking down the breezeway in his red shirt and khaki pants, but his face no longer rivaled the sun. A cloud had passed over, and it remained upon him as he sat down opposite me at the small metal table outside the Baskin Robbins.

"Okay, Jo," he said. "What's going on?"

I looked at him, bit my lip and held back the tears. "David," I said. "You know how much you've meant to me these past weeks. I needed a friend so badly, and there you were, and everything was so perfect, and I'll never forget…and I'll never _regret_…"

He gulped. "Why do I feel like I'm getting dumped?" he asked in a hollow voice.

"Oh, David! You're not getting dumped. It's not like that. I can't be like that, because in order to get dumped, first you have to be a couple, and we were never a couple, David. We were just really, really good friends, and then, after a while things just started to get out of hand---"

"Is that what you call it? 'Out of hand'?"

"David, I need you to understand. When I say I'll never regret anything that happened, I mean it. I will never regret anything. Not even what happened yesterday. Especially not what happened yesterday. You…your kisses….the way you made me feel…that was the most wonderful….the most thrilling…."

"But it's not going to happen again, is it?" he asked, bitterly. "And we're not going out tonight, are we?"

I put my hands over my forehead, unable to look at him. "No," I said quietly, miserably. "It's not. And we're not. We can't. I mean….I can't."

He sighed heavily, and we sat there in silence for a few minutes more. There was a family a few tables away enjoying their ice cream cones, and we could hear them chattering happily, but they were too involved in their own blissful lives to pay much attention to what was going on between us.

"So what happened?" David asked finally. "Was it Lizzie? Did Lizzie get to you?"

"No, it wasn't Lizzie," I said instantly. "It was Sam. Sam came home early this morning. And he 'got to me,' as you put it."

"Then he knows?"

I took a deep, quavering breath. "He knows everything, David. I didn't hide anything from him. He's my husband, and I love him, and at last we had the chance to talk, to really talk about everything that's been happening. He opened up to me, and I opened up to him, and for the first time in the longest time I've felt that maybe…maybe there's hope for us…for our marriage…"

David sighed again and sat sideways on his chair, not looking at me. "Sam must hate my guts right now," he said in a voice so low I could barely hear him.

"No, he doesn't!" I exclaimed. "He doesn't blame you, David. He doesn't blame me. I think if anything he blames himself. But that's all in the past now. He's agreed to…to come to marriage counseling with me. Not your parents, you understand, somebody else, way outside of town. He's cutting back his hours at work, he's telling his boss he has to have every other weekend at home. And we're going on a trip! Can you imagine? And…and…he wants to buy me a bowling ball, so we can go bowling together. A ball that is not too heavy, but the holes are not too small and not too close together, so it will be just right for me. We're going to go bowling together!"

David looked across at me, a perturbed look on his face. And who could blame him? Here I had just dashed all his hopes for a wild night of sexual pleasure, and instead I was babbling about bowling?

"You have to understand, David," I went on. "From the start I never told you any different than that I loved my husband and wanted things to get better between us. I never let you believe---"

"Yes, you did," he said accusingly.

I gasped. "No, I didn't!"

"Yes, you did, Jo. You flirted with me, shamelessly, at every opportunity. You were always touching me, always saying things, always flirting…"

"David…David…" I said miserably. "I never meant anything by it. I was just playing."

"You were playing, Jo, but I was….I was…."

This was turning out to be worse than I thought. I felt like I was going to cry, and now he sounded like he might too.

"I know I was unfair to you," I said quietly, steadying my voice. "I'm so sorry, David. I never thought you would take it all so seriously. It was far…far too easy to forget how very young you are, how impressionable, how very vulnerable…"

"I know," he said sarcastically. "Because I'm so mature, right? So smart. So grown up. Such a _man."_

"You are, sweetie," I said, reaching out for his hand, but he pulled it away. And then I noticed that my sweet young man, my smart, mature, grown up young man, had a tear falling down the side of his face.

"Oh, David…"

He didn't answer for a long time. I saw him looking down at the ground, biting his lower lip to hold back any more tears that might try to escape. Now he was the little boy again, and he had a boo-boo, but I couldn't kiss it and make it better, like I used to. I could only hope I wouldn't hurt him too much more.

We both sat there, not knowing what else to say, but not wanting to leave. Even though we knew there could be nothing more between us, I don't think either of us wanted to be the first one to stand up and leave.

Finally, David took a deep breath that was laced with a sniffle. "Jo, " he said very quietly. "I really wanted…I really wanted you to be my first time."

"Oh, David! You can do so much better than that," I said with certainty. "Soon, you're going to be in college, you're going to be meeting so many girls your own age. And you're going to find someone, someone who lights up your world, who belongs to you and you alone, and when that happens you're going to be so glad that you waited to create the memory of your first time with her, and not have it already spoiled by…by…."

"It wouldn't have been spoiled," David said with equal certainty, but he still would not look at me.

We sat again in silence, and I could see that we were not going to get anywhere like this. There was nothing more to be said. Well, one more thing I had to say.

"Anyway," I began, "I just want to thank you, David, for everything you did for me this summer. For being my friend. For being my confidant. For being that shoulder to cry on. You helped me so much, you can't even begin to imagine. I am so serious when I say that I don't regret a single moment of it. I wouldn't trade in any of it, not even last night. Especially not last night---"

"Jo. Don't. That's not making me feel any better."

I sighed. "I know. I'm being unfair again, aren't I? So I'm going to stop. And I'm going to go. And I'm going to say…finally…. that I wish you the very best, David, all the very best as you start this new chapter in your life."

He looked up at me suddenly, biting his lip against the tears. I could tell how difficult this was for him, so I was so proud of him when I heard him say, "And I wish you the same, Jo, as you begin a new chapter in your life. With Sam, I mean. I hope everything works out for you two."

He ran a hand over his forehead and let out a sharp breath as he said, "And I hope you'll start talking to your friends again. And most of all I hope that somehow you and Lizzie will….will….I don't know. Whatever it is that you and Lizzie need to do to get past all the trouble I caused between you, and all the trouble there was before I even came along. I hope you can help her to be happy again.

"I worry about her, you know. I still love her. I always will. And I'll always love you too, Jo. Those McGuire women," he joked with a small laugh. "Can't live with 'em…can't….you know…"

I smiled at him sadly. The boy was gone again, the man had reappeared. I had a feeling that as time went on this was going to be happening to him more and more often.

I stood up and held out my arms. "Would you give me one more hug, sweetie, before you go?"

David nodded and came into my arms. We held each other for a long, long time, and in a little while I felt that he was rocking me, ever so slightly, as if we were dancing again. I was crying, and I was pretty sure he was crying too, because when he finally let me go, he wiped his eyes and said, "I should go now."

I nodded. "Now you should go," I agreed. "You have a big day tomorrow. And I have to go too."

David nodded. "You have to go home to Sam."

"I do," I said.

We hugged again, then said no more. He turned around and walked away, his shoulders hunched, and I watched him disappear out of my life.


	14. Chapter 14: David

_Now I come to the last chapter. But it is only the last chapter in this particular story, not the last chapter I will ever write for Gordo. I have several ideas for stories that will show other events in his life. Bear with me, because I may jump around a bit. _

_Someday I'm going to write more fully about Parker's obsession with him, and that little trick she pulled at the beach. I also have a vague idea about him graduating college and who he will actually end up with, perhaps even marrying._

_ I am also just now planning a story I think I will call "Gordo's Girls" which will document a few months in 10th grade, when "Gordo's life is a soap opera of misplaced affections and unrequited love. Surrounded by more girls that he can handle, guilt-ridden Gordo searches desperately for a way to make everyone happy---including himself!" Sound like fun? hehe _

_ But right now, will The Graduate have a happy ending? Please let me know what you think about how this turns out. Because there really were only two main paths I could have gone down---either they do it or they don't do it, the high road or the low road. I have an alternate ending in my head, but the one I committed to paper (so to speak) is the one I think is more realstic, more "canon" and thus I am more happy with this. I see that a number of you want to see them "do it" and I find that surprising, since I anticipated there would be a lot of resistance to the relationship.  
_

_So anyway, thanks so much to all my loyal readers, and to anyone who might find this story sometime in the future, please feel free to comment about anything at any time! I write for myself, but your comments are icing on the cake!_

_- _

It was a good thing that the little going away/wish you well celebration my co-workers planned for me took place at lunchtime, and not at the end of that day. There was cake and lots of joking all around, but I wouldn't have been able to get into the spirit of it if I had been forced to sit still at the end of that day, knowing Jo was waiting outside for me with bad news.

After Jo came into the store and all but said "We have to talk," my mind was elsewhere. I tried not to think about it, not to analyze or guess, but in the fifteen minutes between our encounter in the store and our conversation in front of Baskin Robbins, I think I had already guessed, I just didn't want to admit it to myself. I could tell Jo had been crying. I could tell this was not going to be anything good. And then she dropped the bomb and my worst suspicions were confirmed.

My gut reaction, of course, was totally selfish. I wanted sex. I thought I was going to get sex. All I could think about was sex, and now she was telling me it wasn't going to happen. That was why I was crying, because I wasn't going to get sex. _Selfish! Selfish pig!_ Later on I beat myself up about it quite a bit.

The only thing that stopped me from slipping into utter self-loathing was the fact that by the end of our conversation, when I told her I hoped everything turned out well for her and Sam, and that I hoped she and Lizzie could patch up their differences, when I said all that I really meant it. As bad as I was, at that point, I really was thinking about someone other than myself. So I'm not all bad.

Probably just human.

But "just human" has never been good enough for me. Sure, I've eased up on myself a lot as I've grown older, but it still hurt to know that when push came to shove, I was no better or worse than the average guy. So this was not so much about Jo, as it was about me, about my own unrealistic expectations of myself.

And, well, of course, it was also about the sex.

-

That night I continued packing up my room. As I placed each box and bag beside the front door, waiting to be put into the Mustang in the morning, I felt more and more how much I could not wait to get out of this stinking town. There was nothing left here for me now. My life was all about the future. I had to concentrate on the future.

And yet, as I tried to sleep that night, as much as I attempted to think ahead, I could not help looking backwards first. As much as I grieved my own lost opportunity, that's how much I eventually came to realize, sometime around two o'clock in the morning, that everything had really worked out for the best for Jo.

I found it hard to believe that Sam could be so forgiving of his wife, if in fact she had told him everything, as she said she had, if in fact she had told him that her intention had been to have sex with me. I don't know that I could have been so understanding if I were in his place. Perhaps he was a bigger man than I was. Or perhaps he was just more in love with his wife than I had ever been with anyone in my life.

But what if Jo and I had done the deed? Would Sam still be so understanding? What was his breaking point? Maybe it was better we had not gone far enough to find out. As it was, it now appeared their marriage was back on the right track. And that was a good thing. I was happy for her. I really was. Happy for her, but sad for myself.

And I understood what she meant when she said my first time should be with a girl who belonged to me and me alone, a girl who would light up my life. Jo had lit up my life, if only briefly, but she did not belong to me alone. On one level I knew I could "do so much better than that," as she had suggested. Yet on another level, I still could not believe I could ever do any better than Jo. It would have been great. It would have been the absolute best I could possibly imagine. And I still stood by my statement. It would not have been spoiled.

So I was a mixed bag of emotions as some time around three a.m. I finally drifted off into a restless sleep.

-

Thankfully, in the morning, Mom and Dad did not wake me. I slept till ten. They had both scheduled time off from their patients so they could be here to see me off, and I was glad that they were neither holding me back nor pushing me out the door. I think they understood some of the issues a young man might face when striking out on his own for the first time in his life.

But I know they did not understand all of my issues at this moment. As I packed up the Mustang, for the first time I thought of how great it was going to be to unpack on the other end, filling my new room with my familiar stuff. Adam would be there, and I knew he would come in to help, and we would talk, and at last I would have the chance to really let go about all this.

I had been e-mailing and phoning both Tudge and Danny all summer, but I had never mentioned anything about Jo to either of them. With their ties to Hillridge, I couldn't risk either of them making a casual remark to anyone who might make a casual remark to someone else, and before you knew it, the whole town would be talking about the sordid way Jo McGuire had carried on with that teenage boy. I wasn't going to risk embarrassing her in that way. To say nothing of how much _more_ Lizzie would hate me if something like that should happen.

It was almost noon when the car was finally packed. Dad handed me $300 in cash "just in case" and Mom cried all over my shirt and told me a dozen times that I should call if I needed anything, anything at all. I promised I would call them the moment I arrived at Adam's house. Then I pulled out of the driveway, seeing them waving at me in my rear view mirror. I headed down the block.

-

A few hundred feet into my journey, I passed the McGuire house on the right. The mixed bag of emotions that had tormented me all night suddenly puffed up and started rattling around uncontrollably inside me. Something felt wrong, but I couldn't pinpoint what it was. I knew I couldn't leave yet, but I didn't know why. I got to the end of the street and turned, circling the block, trying to analyze this strange sensation.

Was it that I wanted to see Jo one last time? Had we not said our goodbyes the previous evening, in front of Baskin Robbins? The wound was only now beginning to heal. Was it possible I was stupid enough to want to open it up all over again? What was I thinking of, I wondered, as I drove past the McGuire house a second time.

There were pieces of me still in that house. Aside from the obvious pieces of my heart in every room, and the remnants of bodily fluids perhaps even now still being washed away through the plumbing, I also recalled that I had left a set of work clothes last Friday night, and a DVD on Saturday.

The work clothes were no big deal, I decided. I wasn't going to need khaki workpants where I was going, and if Circuit City missed their shirt, they could always deduct the cost out of my last paycheck. I wasn't concerned about that.

As for the DVD, I decided I wanted to leave it for Jo. It was very funny. Maybe she and Sam could watch it together, laugh at it together, while drinking a bottle of wine. I smiled sadly and passed the house a third time.

At the end of the street, though, I turned, circling the block yet again. No. Something was still not right. Something was still bothering me very much. I couldn't leave until I figured out what this was. And so I drove past the house yet again.

This time, I saw Josh's Jeep Cherokee pulled up at the curb, and I saw that Josh was still sitting behind the wheel, blasting his horn. Josh was the kind of jerk who would never go in and say hello to a girl's parents, or even do the courtesy of calling on his cell phone to say he was waiting outside. He just sat at the curb and blasted the horn.

If he was blasting, I knew that meant Lizzie would be coming out of the house at any moment. And as I thought of how she would look, skipping down to the curb, her long blonde hair swaying back and forth, her eyes beaming, that was when I decided to also pull up to the curb, several spaces in front of Josh.

I turned off the ignition and took a deep breath. What was I doing? Was I a glutton for punishment? Had I not beaten myself up enough in the last twenty four hours, now I needed some more abuse from Lizzie? Surely nothing good could come from this. And yet I needed to try.

I looked back at the house, and there was Lizzie, skipping down the front path, her hair swaying, here eyes beaming. I got out of the car and began to walk towards her.

She saw me and her smile deflated. She stood still in the middle of the pathway, her hair now lifeless, her eyes glaring, not beaming.

"My mother is not home," she said flatly, as I approached.

"I know," I said. "I mean, I can see that her car isn't here."

"She and my dad went out for lunch. And after that they're going to the travel agency. They're planning a trip. They're going away for a week. Far, far away."

_From you_, I added, in my mind. That's what she really meant. My mother is going far, far away from you. She's back with Dad, you've lost her, you loser, get out of our lives!

I took a deep breath and said, "I'm not here to see your mom, Lizzie."

"Oh?"

"I wanted to see you."

"What for?"

"To say goodbye. I'm leaving for college. Right now. I'm driving to Berkeley."

"Oh!" she said. She seemed to have softened the slightest bit, so slightly that someone who didn't know her as well as I did might not have noticed. Then I saw her glance at the Mustang. "Is that your car?"

Lizzie was a sucker for sporty cars, I knew that. I sometimes wondered if I had had a muscle car in tenth grade when we broke up if that might have made a difference in my ability to win her back.

Not that I would have wanted a girlfriend who only stayed with me because I had a cool car. No more than I wanted Lizzie to agree to talk with me now only because she suddenly saw I had a cool car. That wasn't why I wanted her to stay and talk with me a moment, but if that was the only way I could get her to do it, then I was going for it.

"Yeah, " I said. "That's my 'Stang. I got it a few days ago. Want to see?"

Lizzie didn't answer, but she walked down to the curb towards my car, running her hand along its pretty blue rump. Josh, behind us, beeped impatiently.

Lizzie held up her hand. "Hold on!" she called.

Then she looked at me. "Gordo…this is a beautiful car."

"Yeah," I agreed.

"And you're taking it to Berkeley?"

"Yeah."

"And you're leaving now? Right now?"

I knew Lizzie McGuire like the back of my hand. I knew from the look on her face exactly what she was thinking. As much as, on one level, she hated me, on some deeper level it was suddenly hitting her that her oldest friend in the world was leaving town.

With Lizzie, even when she did not actually care to have anything to do with me, she still needed to know that I was there, in the background somewhere, ready to come to her side, should she call. She knew that I would always come to her side, should she call. In some sense I was her security blanket, her safety net. But now that safety net was being pulled out from under her, and I could see how much that was bothering her.

Good. Because that made it easier for me to say what I wanted to say next. I mean, I hoped it would make her a little more receptive.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm going right now. But before I go, Lizzie, I just wanted to say---"

Josh beeped the horn again. I looked and saw him raising up his hands in exasperation.

"Hold on," Lizzie said, clearly growing impatient.

She ran to Josh, talking to him at the driver's window. I cursed the situation. There was just as much chance she would fly around to the passenger door, calling "Sorry, Gordo! Gotta go!" as there was that she would actually come back to talk to me. Now I was the one who waited, not impatiently, but expectantly.

In a moment I saw Lizzie walking back towards me and I breathed a sigh of relief.

"We're going for lunch," Lizzie apologized. "He's very hungry. I only have a minute."

"That's okay," I said. "What I want to say will only take a minute. But I want you to listen to me, Lizzie. Really listen to me. Please? Because this comes right from my heart. Even though you may not believe I have a heart any more, but guess what? I do, and it's been kind of broken for a long time now."

I saw her cross her arms over her chest and look at me. Man, this was hard! But I went on.

"I know you've been really mad at me, Lizzie, for quite a while, and now with everything that happened with me and your mom these past weeks, that hasn't made it any better. But you need to know that I never meant for anything bad to happen with your mom. I wasn't trying to break up your parents or anything like that. I only wanted to help her, and things got….well…they got a little out of hand, that's all. But now I hear she and your dad are going to make things work, and I'm glad. Nobody is more glad about that than me. Well…I'm sad, but I'm also glad. Do you understand?"

She still had her arms crossed and now she was barely looking at me, biting her lower lip. But at least she wasn't lashing out at me with angry words, so I felt encouraged to continue.

"And there's another thing," I said quietly. "Something you need to know. Something I tried to tell you before, but you wouldn't listen, but I hope you'll listen now. Not that it will make any difference at this point, but I still need to say it. And since it won't make any difference at this point, you can know there's no reason for me to say it, except because it's true.

"I just need you to know that that day at the beach, what happened with Parker…I'm really, really sorry about that, Lizzie. I wasn't trying to cheat on you. I didn't want to cheat on you. I was just stupid, okay? I was stupid, and not strong. I was just a kid. I never meant to hurt you.

"And it broke my heart as much as it broke yours when you wouldn't talk to me anymore. Not only because I lost you as my girlfriend, but also because I lost you as my friend that day also. And since that day, nothing has been quite right in my life. There's always been this giant hole in my heart where you're supposed to be.

"I don't know…." I said desperately trying to make sense of all this. "Maybe that's why…on some level….maybe that's why it was so easy for me to hang out with your mom. Maybe I was looking for something, for someone to fill that hole, and she wasn't you, but she was the next best thing. The same way that for her, I wasn't your dad, but I was the next best thing. Maybe we were both looking for love in all the wrong places. Isn't that a song?" I joked, feeling that this serious talk had gone on long enough and needed to be lightened up with a stab at humor.

But Lizzie did not laugh. She could not laugh, because she was crying. Not out-and-out crying, just a few tears she was trying very hard to hold back. She squeezed her eyes together and turned away from me.

Josh pounded on the horn.

"For Christ's sake, hold on!" I yelled, glaring at him.

Lizzie gasped out a sob. "I have to go!"

She started to go, but I caught her wrist, not sure what I was going to do, not sure if I had anything else to say, but hoping somehow that I might hear a word of encouragement from her.

I got better than a word. I got a hug. She wrapped her arms around me, so tightly, I almost couldn't breath. Though it may not have been the physical strength of her embrace that knocked the wind out of me, so much as it was its unexpectedness.

I put my arms around her, not giving a damn about Josh, who was once again blasting the horn, and now even yelling out the window, but still would not get out of the driver's seat

"Oh, Lizzie….Lizzie…" I said, squeezing her. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm so sorry, too, Gordo…."

"What the hell!" Josh screamed.

"Josh, be quiet!" Lizzie cried. "Gordo is leaving for college. I'm saying goodbye. I'm saying goodbye to one of my oldest and dearest friends, so could you just give me a freakin' moment here, please?"

I laughed, still hugging her.

"I can see we don't have much time," I said. "But would you mind if I gave you a call sometime, Lizzie? After I'm settled in. And maybe…maybe we could e-mail each other. It doesn't have to be anything serious. Just enough so that I know you don't hate me anymore. Because I can't stand going on like this anymore, thinking that you might hate me."

She nodded, then looked up, wiping her eyes as she smiled. "Gordo, I'm so sorry. I don't hate you. And it would be okay if you wanted to…to stay in touch a little. That would be okay," she said. "Yes, actually, I think I'd like that."

I nodded, and I felt that my smile at that moment must rival the sun.

"Okay then," I said. "Thanks, Lizzie. Okay."

-

-

When I came home to visit on the long Thanksgiving weekend, my freshman year of college, Lizzie and I went out for dinner that Saturday night. We had been phoning and e-mailing each other since early September. Now, sitting across from each other in the restaurant, I could clearly see how much her eyes sparkled when she told me about her new college boyfriend Roger, as much as I'm sure she could see my eyes sparkling when I talked about Jenny.

Afterwards we drove back to her house, where, after much debate, she finally persuaded me to come in for a few moments to say hi to her mom and dad.

At first I thought this might feel somewhat awkward, but when I got inside, Sam was at the kitchen counter, so intently painting a gnome that after, "Hey, Gordo! How you doin' there, buddy?" there was not much more interaction between us, for which I was grateful. I had always imagined him harboring a secret resentment towards me, but apparently this was not so.

Jo looked great. Not only was she as beautiful as I remembered, but also clearly much happier than the last time I had seen her. We hugged briefly, then sat down together on the couch.

"So Lizzie tells me you've got a new girlfriend," Jo smiled playfully. "Do tell!"

A short time later, I hugged Lizzie good night and she allowed her mother the honor of walking me to the front door. As we stood in the foyer together, it suddenly occurred to me that everything Jo has said had come true. Jenny lit up my world, and I was so glad that I had waited to create the memory of my first time with someone I loved so much, someone who was mine and only mine. My Mustang, though not exactly drawing Jenny as a moth to the flame, had played a major role in how we had met.

But that's another story altogether. One I might tell some day. If I'm in the mood.

On this Saturday night in November, as Jo and I stood in the foyer to say good night, she reached up to kiss me on the cheek. As she did, I was extremely careful to keep my head turned, even though I was quite sure that at this point in our lives it was highly unlikely there would be any more accidents.

And it occurred to me, as I walked down the front path of the McGuire house, approaching my car at the curb, that my shoulders suddenly felt looser than they ever had before.


End file.
